Moonlight on the Caribbean
by rebeldivaluv
Summary: AU. The 1600s, the time of fair ladies, honorable suitors...and the not-so-honorable ones. Broe & Mason, with some Shelle. Complete!
1. Chapter One

Moonlight on the Caribbean 

**Chapter One**

_England, 1664_

Lady Chloe Wesley descended the grand staircase at her family's country estate, her best friend Isabella Black at her side.  They made a regal pair, fit to make any man take a second—or even a third—look.  Chloe was dressed entirely in a rich indigo color, accentuated by the glimmering sapphires around her neck.  Her thick, dark hair was pulled back and up into a woven regal crown.  Her figure was vital and lively, and her eyes sparkled more than the sapphires.

Young Lady Black made a fitting counterpoint to her tall, dark companion.  Her unbelievably tiny waist was pulled even tighter by the whalebone corset beneath her pink satin dress.  Her blonde hair was styled in coquettish little ringlets.  She looked nothing short of angelic, and she had an expression to match.  Those who knew her knew she had the heart of an angel as well.

Chloe and Belle had met at finishing school at the age of thirteen.  From then on, they had been inseparable.  They had passed every milestone together.  At sixteen, the two friends had taken London society by storm.  And now, two years later, they had one more mission left in life, one last bridge to cross; and they had every intention of crossing it together.  Tonight was the night they would run the final gauntlet and, hopefully, emerge with hands and hearts promised.

Belle took a deep breath as she reached the bottom of the stairs.  She was practically bursting with excitement, but a lady didn't show such things.  A lady remained calm and poised at all times, even when the man of her dreams was waiting in just the next room.  She turned to look at her best friend.  Chloe's face didn't betray a hint of the excitement Belle knew must be going on inside of her.  "Can you believe this is finally happening?"  She couldn't stop the somewhat squealing tone of her voice.

Chloe forced a weak smile for the sake of her friend.  She too was having trouble retaining her cool, but for the opposite reasons as Belle.  Belle was lucky.  She had fallen head over heels for the man her parents had picked out for her.  It had never occurred to her to realize she would have to marry him whether she wanted to or not.  Chloe knew she didn't have a choice, and she also knew she didn't have the support of her parents.  But she had to do this for their sake anyway.  The family was floundering under the influence of too many generations of extravagant spending.  They needed money—lots of it and quickly—or her whole family would be disgraced.

But there wasn't time to think of that now.  In no more than seconds, the gentlemen had come to the side of their ladies.  Belle blushed as Commander Shawn Douglas Brady of His Royal Navy took her hand and brushed his lips against it.  She couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked in his dress uniform.  With his dark hair and warm brown eyes, he was her every fantasy come true.  She curtsied beautifully, relying on her years of training to get her through the awkwardness and butterflies of this night.  It was now or never.  He was going to be shipping out for his station in Jamaica in the morning.  

"You look enchanting this evening, Lady Isabella," he murmured, her hand still locked in his, as he looked into the eyes that had bewitched him the moment he first saw her.  She was perfect, everything he had ever dreamed of or hoped for in a wife.  If only he could overcome his nervousness enough to say the words that had been on his heart for days.  

"Thank you," she returned, blushing furiously.  It gave her pale cheeks color and only added extra allure to the quaint, doll-like picture she made.  Both of them were so occupied with each other that they failed to notice their parents' grins in the distance as they watched the scene.  They had truly chosen a good match.  Added to the old friendship between the families was Shawn and Belle's obvious love for each other.  

Chloe would have liked to observe her friend's romance with the rest of them, but she was prevented by the approach of her suitor.  Philip Kiriakis represented everything Chloe longed to achieve.  A wealthy plantation owner, the son of wealthy plantation owners.  He lived in Jamaica, unrestrained by the pressures of appearing wealthier than he really was.  Everything he represented, he was.  She envied that.  And she wanted that freedom.

Even if she had to lie to herself to get it.  She could pretend she loved him.  It shouldn't be too hard.  He was handsome, in a boyish kind of way, with his dirty blonde hair and blue-gray eyes.  And he did seem quite taken with her.  There wasn't any reason at all why she should feel this inward revulsion from him.  His behavior was in all ways proper and circumspect.  But there was a look in his eyes she didn't like.  He looked at her like he had found a new suit of clothes he liked, like she would be a good prize to add to his collection.  He had no regard for who she really was inside.

_Why should that matter? she scolded herself.  People married for reasons other than love everyday.  And those that did marry for love over more material considerations were generally regarded as fools by the majority of society.  She herself had been known to scoff at such stupidity.  But that had been before she'd seen her best friend fall in love, before she'd seen the way Shawn held her in his eyes, before she'd known what love was really like.  _

She pushed those thoughts away.  They could get her into trouble.  Too much trouble.  Her family needed money.  She needed an escape from English society.  Philip offered the solution to both those problems.  She had to choke down whatever regrets she was feeling and accept the inevitable.  She had chosen this path for herself months ago when she had first met him at a ball.  She had known then that she would be Philip's wife.  Now, tonight, was her last chance to make that mission a reality.  

And judging by the look in Philip's eyes, it shouldn't be too hard.  He pressed her hand to his lips longer than was customary.  Chloe pushed down her momentary gag reflex.  She was used to ignoring her emotions.  She'd been doing it all her life.  "Lady Chloe, you are a vision," he complimented her in a sultry whisper.  His eyes when he looked at her were hot with desire.  He looked ready to devour her.

Her father cleared his throat behind them, trying to interrupt this scene.  Something about Philip left him vaguely uncomfortable.  He wished that Chloe would reconsider this decision, but she had always been stubborn.  There was no use trying to change her mind when it was made up.  "Let's go into dinner, shall we?"  There was an unmistakable warning in his tone as he glared at Philip.

Philip looked momentarily nonplussed, but quickly recovered.  He smiled at Chloe, flashing his dimples, and extended his arm to her.  "Shall we?" he asked smoothly, completely ignoring Lord Wesley.  

Chloe glanced pleadingly at her father to keep the peace, before nodding and smiling at Philip and letting him escort her into the dining room.  It was to be a small intimate dinner.  Only Shawn's parents, Lord and Lady Black, and her own family, besides the four young people.  It was the way Belle and Chloe had wanted it.  Each for their different reasons, as each was determining their different destinies.

Miriam Lockhart watched from the shadows with the other servants as dinner was served.  As Lady Isabella's personal maid, she wasn't responsible for the meals.  She didn't even necessarily have to be there, but Belle had ordered her to stay.  She wanted to take a walk with Shawn after dinner and needed a chaperone.  Mimi smiled slightly.  Trust Belle to have everything worked out in advance.  She didn't want her parents ruining her special moment with Shawn, and she knew that Mimi would keep her distance.  

The relationship between Belle and Mimi was so much more than mistress and maid.  Mimi was her confidante, her sister, her best friend when Lady Chloe wasn't around.  Mimi loved her young mistress and envied her the optimism and innocence that she was partly born with and partly granted through her sheltered upbringing.  And Mimi liked Commander Brady as well.  She had made it a point to study him carefully in all the time he had spent with Belle, and she had reached the decision that if anyone in the world was worthy of her mistress it was Shawn Douglas Brady.

Her eyes moved to the other young couple.  Lady Chloe was difficult to figure out.  A girl of quickly changing moods.  She could be as sweet as an angel one moment, and then turn on a dime, and put the demons to shame with her fury.  But mostly, she kept herself to herself.  Mimi had known her for as long as Chloe had known Belle, and she still didn't feel that she understood her.  But she knew that Chloe loved Belle as a sister and would give her life for any she loved, and that was enough for her.

Her eyes narrowed as she took in Philip Kiriakis.  She didn't trust him any farther than she could throw him.  He was too smooth, too eager to please.  There was something about him that didn't sit right.  Perhaps Chloe and Belle couldn't see this, with the structured, careful way they had been brought up.  But Mimi had no such illusions.  She knew an evil man when she saw him, and he was one.

She couldn't understand why Chloe would even consider marrying him.  Mimi wouldn't have for all the money in the world.  Money didn't buy happiness.  Nothing would buy happiness married to a man like that.  She could foresee only pain for Lady Chloe if she went through with it.  She only wished that she could advise her against it, but she knew how pointless that would be.  Chloe would just laugh at her.  She was only a servant girl, after all.  What could she know?

Plenty.  

~~*~~

The night air was alive with the noises of crickets chirping and the gentle rustling of the wind through the trees.  Belle barely felt the chill of the early spring evening.  She was lost in the warmth of Shawn's gaze, her feet barely touching the ground.  She was only dimly aware of Mimi following at a discreet but respectable distance.  Everything was perfect, just the way she had always dreamed it would be.

Shawn walked beside her, close enough to hear her rapid breathing, yet still not touching.  His hands were folded behind his back in proper military fashion.  The navy was a family tradition of sorts.  He was the newest in a long line of Bradys to enter the service.  The Brady men knew how to be strong and unafraid in battle.  What should be so terrifying about telling a girl he loved her and asking her to marry him?  And yet it was.

"Er, beautiful night," he began awkwardly, inwardly cursing himself.  He wished for a moment that he had Philip's gift with words.  No doubt his proposal was coming along so much better.  Shawn cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Belle refrained from giggling, even though she found his nervousness so adorable.  It was good to know that she wasn't the only one scared out of her mind tonight.  "Yes, the stars are lovely," she returned quietly, ducking her head.  

They returned to their uncomfortable silence as they walked along one of the garden paths.  Strange, over the past few months they had been able to talk about everything with each other.  They knew each other as well as if they'd been friends their entire lives.  But now, they couldn't think of one intelligent thing to say to each other.  Shawn spotted a stone bench up ahead.  Perhaps it would be easier to speak without the constant motion.  "Would you like to sit down, Lady Isabella?"

"Yes, thank you," she said formally, before allowing him to help her down to the stone bench.  Her dress formed a lovely pink satin lake around her, and she discreetly picked and played with it as he paced—marched, she decided—before her.  Every once in a while, she glanced up just to take in once again what a handsome, strong figure he was.

Okay.  This was it.  He was just going to do this.  "Isabella Black, will you marry me?" he blurted out, with all the tact he would have used dispensing orders to his men.  He bit down the flame of embarrassment and stood still before her, awaiting her answer.  

Belle couldn't hold back her laughter this time, partly from relief, partly from the ridiculous way he had asked her.  But she saw the hurt, mortified look on his face and instantly calmed down.  "Yes, Commander Brady," she said, her voice still shaking with mirth.  "I would be honored to marry you."  

Shawn felt momentary relief, before his doubts once again surfaced.  She looked too…happy.  "Why?" he asked bluntly.

Belle stared at him for a moment in shock.  "Why would I want to marry you?" she asked incredulously.  At his curt nod, her cheeks flamed.  This was most definitely not how she had envisioned his proposal.  "Well…I…um…Because I love you, Commander Brady.  Is that reason enough?"  After her outburst, she immediately returned her attention to her dress, as if she had found something of great interest in the folds of her skirt.

Shawn grinned, all military bearing forgotten, as he hauled her bodily off the bench and kissed her soundly, breaking all bounds of common decorum.  She didn't object however.  In fact, she leaned into him and encouraged his kiss.  Her arms found their way around his neck and fastened themselves there.  Although surprised, Shawn was in no mood to object.  Her actions spurred him on to greater boldness, as his tongue sought out her lips and parted them gently.  A gentle clearing of the throat behind them restored them to sanity.  They broke apart and saw Mimi watching them with a wry smile.  

Belle pushed away from him and smoothed out her dress self-consciously.  She was glad it was only Mimi that had seen her temporary loss of dignity.  But she didn't regret it.  She was going to be the wife of the man of her dreams.  Nothing else really seemed to matter.  She smiled shyly up at him.  Shawn grinned stupidly back at her, lost in a haze of euphoric joy.  Suddenly, he realized what he had forgotten.  He cupped her face in his hands and stared deeply into her eyes.  "I love you, Lady Isabella."

Belle smiled beatifically, feeling her whole soul come alive for the man in front of her.  "I love you too, Commander Brady.  And don't you think it's time we start calling each other by our first names?" she hinted gently, suddenly realizing that he was as new to this as she was.  

"All right…Belle," Shawn gulped out awkwardly.  He'd never in the whole course of his life called a girl by her first name.  This was going to take some getting used to.  "Oh, I almost forgot."  Once again, he felt like a dunce as he dug in his pocket for the ring.  This proposal hadn't gone at all the way he had rehearsed it, but the girl had said yes and that was all that mattered.  

Belle gasped, as he pulled out a gold ring with a large ruby set in it.  "Oh, Shawn," she breathed as he slipped it onto her finger.  "It's so beautiful."  She didn't need to have it appraised to realize the priceless quality of such a ring.

One corner of Shawn's mouth tipped up.  "It was my grandmother's.  You would have loved her.  And she would have loved you.  She was the sweetest, gentlest soul I've ever known.  Except for you, my love."  The words fell easily from his tongue.  He was surprised.  He brought her newly adorned hand to his lips and kissed it fervently.  "No one compares to you."

~~*~~

Chloe sat before the fire, her eyes steadfastly glued to her needlework.  Or rather Belle's needlework.  She didn't have the patience for such things, but Philip didn't need to know that yet.  There would be time enough for him to find out after the wedding.  Philip sat in the chair opposite her in front of the fire and gazed rapturously at her face.  The glow of the flames flickered and danced over her stunning features, catching the light in her eyes and making them seem even more alive than usual.  

There was no nervous stuttering on his part, no anxiety in his manner.  He knew what he wanted to ask her, and he knew she knew and was waiting for it.  "Lady Chloe, you can be in no doubt as to my intentions towards you," he said, moving and taking the seat next to her.  Chloe dropped her needlework in her lap and watched him expectantly, no emotion showing on her beautiful face.

"I've spoken with your father, and he has given his blessing as long as you give me your personal acceptance.  You're everything I desire in a wife, Chloe.  You're beautiful, enchanting, well-educated, polite, with superb family pedigree.  I don't expect you to love me right away, though of course I wouldn't object if you did."  He flashed her a dimpled smile, as if questioning how anyone could not love him.  "Lady Chloe, would you do me the honor of being my wife?"  He produced a gold inlaid box with an impossibly large diamond ring nestled in it.

Chloe waited to feel any emotion at all.  None came.  Not even regret that it had come to this.  She took it as a good sign.  Maybe in time she would grow to love him.  Given time and distance from everything else familiar, apathy might turn into love.  "The honor is mine, Mr. Kiriakis," she replied formally, glad to have it done and out of the way.

"Good," he said, as though it was a matter of course.  He slipped the audacious jewel onto her left hand, ring finger and perfunctorily kissed her hand.  "Now, I am to return to Jamaica with Shawn tomorrow.  I'll make arrangements for you to follow in a few months, as soon as everything can be set in order."

Chloe barely held in her surprise and annoyance.  "But I thought we would marry here in a year or two.  I'm in no rush, sir."  She relied on a lifetime of suppressed emotions to keep her voice even and untroubled.  

Philip just laughed.  "But I am, my dear.  I want you to be by side before the end of the year.  Don't worry, darling.  You'll have plenty of time to make any wedding arrangements you want to.  And to help with it, I'm sending you a maid first thing in the morning."

Chloe barely managed to shove down the angry retort that sprung to her lips.  "Thank you for the offer, but I don't need another maid.  The household servants are perfectly adequate.  And I've known them all my life."

"But they're your parents' servants," Philip argued.  "They won't be able to accompany you to Jamaica.  And there aren't trained lady's maids in the Caribbean.  I want my wife to have better than a native slave.  Besides, I've already filled the position.  I'm sure you'll get along just fine.  Her name is Jan Spears, and she'll be here tomorrow morning.  No objections."  There was a note of finality in Philip's tone.

Chloe choked back her rising resentment.  Not only was she being given no choice in the matter of her own wedding and her own maid, but Philip had begun making plans before she had even said yes.  Like it was a given.  She would just have to accustom herself to it, she supposed.  Anything required adjustments, and she was determined to make this work.  It had to work.  "As you wish, Mr. Kiriakis," she replied tonelessly.

"Call me Philip," he ordered, as his eyes focused on her lips.  "Might I have permission to kiss you?"

Chloe continued to fight down her ever-growing nausea.  Who ever heard of a man asking permission to kiss a girl?  Why couldn't she be swept off her feet like she was sure was happening with Belle?  "Of course."  Her mouth formed the words, even as her heart rebelled.

The next thing she knew his lips were covering hers.  It was her first kiss ever, yet it left her feeling queasy—and not in a good way.  His lips were harsh and cold against hers, and when he tried to press closer, tried to push the kiss farther, she yanked her mouth free on a gasp.  She covered her lips, more to wipe off the taste of him than to hide her embarrassment.  "I'm sorry," she murmured when she had recovered.  "I've just never been kissed before."

Philip smiled, the gleam in his eyes almost predatory.  So she was a complete innocent, was she?  Even better.  Oh, he was going to enjoy this.  He was going to enjoy this immensely.  By the time he was through with Lady Chloe Wesley, not one drop of blood in her would be left innocent.   

~~*~~

_The Caribbean Sea, near the Spanish Main_

Spanish blood dripped off the tip of his cutlass and stained the deck of the _El Diablo.  The air was thick with the reek of gunpowder, sweat, and death.  And Brady relished it.  Every Spanish dog dead on the deck was one less torturing innocent victims of the unholy Inquisition.  One more Spaniard dead meant one less beating the slaves in the silver mines.  He took his vengeance for every friend he'd seen cut down, every cry of a starving, beaten child as they hauled the silver out of the dark mines of Peru.  And he felt no regret.  _

There was no mercy offered when _The Vengeance took a Spanish galleon.  Captain Blackheart made no attempts to deny what he was.  He was a pirate to the core, with a soul as black as night.  He would make no claim to be a buccaneer under commission from King Charles.  He didn't even covet the Spanish treasure.  The only prize he needed was the rivers of blood running along the deck of the ship.  And he had formed a crew of cutthroats as ruthless as he was._

Some were in it for the treasure.  And there was plenty of it to go around.  But any buccaneering ship in the Caribbean offered treasure, and most didn't demand such a grueling, stomach-churning duty.  When _The Vengeance attacked, there was only one rule.  No man was left alive.  Whether military, civilian, or priest, they were to meet their end at the point of a cutlass or the shot of a cannon.  Some Spaniards had been known to jump into the ocean once they realized what ship was attacking them.  Better death by drowning or shark attack than at the hands of the __Capitán__ Corazónnegro and his band of crazy pirates.  _

For most of the pirates who made up the crew of _The Vengeance weren't there for the treasure.  They were there for one cause, and one cause only.  The hatred of Spain and all things Spanish. A group of ragtag troublemakers with nothing else in common.    But though the faces were different, one fact remained the same.  They had all been victims of the heinous atrocities Spain committed in the name of God and the Church.  These were men with nothing left to lose, and so they took their vengeance anyway they could.  _

Brady surveyed the Spanish corpses rotting on the deck with satisfaction.  His eyes swept over one last time, looking for survivors.  Twenty yards off, he saw a foot twitch.  He smiled heartlessly and approached until he stood directly over him, cutlass pointed at his heart.  "Who will give you last rites now?" he bit out viciously.

The man looked up at him, his eyes dark and terrified.  It was the _capitan__ himself who stood over him.  __"Del el dios por favor, me ayuda!__ Ahórreme, yo le piden!"_

Brady's smile froze in place at the man's pleas to God to save him.  As William had pleaded.  As Thomas had pleaded.  As Charles had pleaded.  But they hadn't listened then, and Brady wouldn't listen now.  "_Puede__ usted quemarse en infierno!" he cursed in perfect Castilian, as he brought his hand down to kill the Spanish filth that cringed and cowered in terror at his feet._

Another strong, bloodied fist grabbed his before he could deliver the cut that would send the bastard to the hell where he belonged.  Brady whirled around, cutlass ready to kill whoever had stopped his revenge.  His blue eyes, even more brilliant in their rage, widened in surprise as he came face to face with his first mate.  "Bloody hell, Masters!" he exclaimed.  "What the hell's the matter?"

Jason Masters was undoubtedly the only person who could look into that blood-splattered, fury-distorted face without flinching or showing fear in any way.  They had been through too much together for him to fear Brady.  They were friends.  Perhaps the only friends each other had.  Jason wiped the blood and sweat off his face with his torn sleeve.  "Let him be," he instructed forcefully.  "Chances are he'll be dead before anyone finds this boat anyway.  And if he isn't, it will just add to the growing fear of _The Vengeance."  _

He grinned with ruthless, twisted pleasure as he spoke.  He didn't want Brady to know that the man's plea had touched someplace inside him that he thought was dead forever.  He had been by Brady's side at every battle for the last five years.  He had killed as many men, if not more.  And he had never felt the slightest compunction about it.  The Spaniards deserved it after what they had done.  Throughout even this last battle, he had killed at least another dozen more with only his hands and his sword.  But he couldn't ignore the feeling of responsibility towards this cowering wretch of a man before them.  

Brady tried to read behind his friend's words but couldn't.  Finally, he shrugged.  What did it matter to him?  The man would die anyway, and this way it would be all the more drawn-out and painful.  He turned back to the crying, sniveling dog at his feet, giving him a kick for emphasis.  "Don't think he did you a favor.  At least my way would have been quicker."  

Jason breathed a secret sigh of relief.  He wasn't sure quite why.  "The crew is ransacking the boat, captain," he said respectfully, once again aware who was in charge.  "It looks like quite a load this time.  They were taking a load of silver from the mines back to Madrid."

Brady nodded, feeling the familiar surge of anger.  Silver dug out of the mountains on the backs of the people who truly owned the land, combined with unfairly confined prisoners, and for what?  To be sent back to Spain to fill the king's coffers and finance his damned Inquisition.  "Let the crew take the silver.  I want no part of it.  For my share, I will take the jewels of these Spanish pigs, intended for their mistresses, no doubt," he sneered, with no thought for the widows and orphans he had made today.  

"Aye, Captain," Jason agreed.  It was one of the things he most respected about Brady.  He never violated his principles for extra riches.  He didn't do this for the treasure at all, making him the rarest of pirates.  He had his own reasons for doing this, and all had learned it was better not to ask what they were.  Hell, Jason wouldn't take too kindly to someone asking him his either.  "The crew will be wanting to go ashore to spend it."

"No," Brady growled.  "A few more months, a few more raids.  Then we'll go ashore.  By then, Shawn will have returned.  He might have some useful information for me."  He grinned.  His double life had so many advantages, including a friendship that allowed him to know the movements of the Spanish before any other pirate on the Main.  

Jason nodded, silently affirming the wisdom of his captain's decision.  If _The Vengeance went back to Tortuga or Port Royal, then more likely than not, the crew would get into nothing but trouble and be of no use when it came time to set sail again.  Then came all the trouble of rounding up a new crew.  No, it was better to remain at sea for as long as possible.  _

Besides, the sea was the only place Brady and Jason found a measure of peace.  On the sea, no one could touch them.  The Caribbean carried away fear with the Trade Winds.  It carried away sweet memories as well and left them with nothing but the bitter taste of revenge in their mouths.


	2. Chapter Two

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Two**

_Three months later, the deck of the H.M.S Dolphin_

Chloe rested her elbows on the railing of the ship, watching as the sun crested the horizon.  Bright rays of sunlight streaked across the ocean, traveling over the rolling waves.  She smiled as the glorious sun rose above the sea and began it's ascent into the azure blue of the sky.  She felt alive, thrilled in unknown regions of her soul.  Something about the sea made her feel complete.  She tasted adventure and life on the breeze.  And she knew that, for better or worse, this day was the beginning of her real life.  All the previous eighteen years had been nothing but stepping stones for what was to come.

Chloe watched the coast of England slip farther and farther away until it was gone completely.  She didn't know when, if ever, she would see it again.  A brief, fleeting pain hit her heart as she thought of her mother and father.  There was no telling when she would see them again either.  They still didn't approve of the choice she had made, and they had made their feelings known.  But they were still her parents.  They still loved her.  She forced back tears as she recalled their tender goodbye this morning.  

But no, she wouldn't dwell on that.  She couldn't.  The whole of the Atlantic Ocean lay before her, bringing with it the promise of a future as unknown and impenetrable as the depths of the sea itself.  When she tried to form some mental picture of what lay ahead of her, it was obscure and clouded.  But the salty spray of the ocean filled her lungs, and she knew that it was a part of her destiny.  She felt she could endure anything, even marriage to a man like Philip, for the chance to live her life near the sea.  

"Chloe, what are you doing on deck unaccompanied?" a parentally scolding voice spoke up behind her.  

Chloe turned slightly to smile at Lord John Black.  Belle's father was making the journey with them to Jamaica, acting as chaperone and guardian to his daughter and her best friend, in addition to his official duties, a tour of inspection of the British colonies in the West Indies.  Apparently, he was taking his position as Chloe's protector seriously.  "I'm fine, Lord Black," she said, with a look of childish pleading.  "Nothing's going to happen to me.  And I do so love the sea."

John took his place next to her at the railing with a wistful look on his face as he too stared out at the rolling waves.  "I once loved the sea too, m'dear," he said distantly, his expression dark and troubled.  

Chloe winced.  How could she have been so careless?  Belle had told her the whole sad history.  She should have known better than to say such things.  Wishing to give him some small comfort, she rested her small, smooth hand on his rough, calloused one.  "I'm sorry, my lord," she apologized softly.  "I didn't stop to think.  I didn't mean o bring back those memories."

John turned to her, his look turning to one of surprise.  "Belle told you?" he asked, in amazement.  Knowing how Marlena felt about any mention of those events, Belle had always avoided discussing them.  At least in front of them.  He was curious to know what Belle said about it to her friends.  

Chloe nodded sympathetically.  "And I'm so sorry for making you think of them.  It must pain you to even be here, and then to have me say such thoughtless things must make the hurt that much more intense."  Chloe's flair for the dramatic was getting the better of her.  In her mind, John's tragedy might as well have happened yesterday instead of twenty years ago.

John patted her cheek gently, a soft smile on his face.  "It's all right, Chloe.  All you said was that you loved the sea.  I don't begrudge you that.  How could I?"  He removed his hand from her cheek, and Chloe saw a barely subdued fury enter his eyes.  "Besides the sea isn't to blame for the actions of God.  Would He have seen fit to be merciful and take us all then."

Chloe's jaw dropped open, unladylike, before she managed to recover herself.  "But…but you can't mean that!"  She had never heard anyone speak so flippantly of their own life.  "Think of all the things you'd have missed out on.  You've had such a wonderful life."

John shook his head, once again staring out to sea.  "I've had an eventful life, Chloe.  There's such a difference.  I keep busy so I don't have to remember.  I don't have to remember…her.  Or what happened to her.  What happened to our son."

"You must have loved them very much," she responded gently, touched by the love and agony in his tone.  She wanted to find some way to pull him up out of the pit she couldn't but feel somewhat responsible for putting him in.  "But surely you love Lady Marlena and Belle just as much."

John smiled, but it was weak.  "My Izzy has been the one bright spot in my life for the past twenty years.  If only to have had her, you're right, I should have lived.  But nothing can ever compare to what I had with Isabella—my wife, not my daughter.  She was the one true love of my life.  I love Marlena, Chloe.  I want you to understand that.  But it's with a different kind of love.  Isabella and I were soulmates, meant to be together forever.  And we were so blissfully happy, so young and innocent and untroubled."

His eyes took on a distant gleam, as he was swept away to a more carefree time in his life.  "And our little boy.  I wish you could have seen him, Chloe.  He was the handsomest lad the world has ever seen.  He was like my Izzy, with his sun-kissed hair and his bright blue eyes.  They sparkled with life and laughter all the time.  And to hear him laugh…"  John's voice trailed off as he struggled to come to terms with his emotion.  

Chloe felt tears prick her eyes, as she was drawn into the tale.  She had never quite grasped before how truly horrific John's history was.  She had heard it from Belle, who hadn't even been born when all this happened.  And knowing how protective John was of his daughter, she doubted that Belle had heard more than the barest details of the history.  He wouldn't have let her see his pain.  Chloe wasn't sure why he was being so open with her now, but she hoped he wouldn't stop.  She felt strangely connected to the story.  "How old was your son?" she asked quietly.

"Only four," he answered in a hoarse whisper.  "Only four.  Too young to die.  She was too young to die too.  They had so much life ahead of them.  We had so much life ahead of all of us."  Chloe knew that he had forgotten her existence.  He spoke only to himself now.  "Why couldn't He have taken me as well?  To be a family, together for always.  Why did He make me wait and suffer for so long?  It doesn't matter now, of course.  I'll be with them soon enough."

Chloe felt a chill run down her spine.  There was ominous foreshadowing in his words and his tone.  "What do you mean, Lord Black?" she asked, calling his attention back to her.  "Surely, you aren't thinking of taking your own life.  What about Belle?  What about your daughter?  What would she do without you?"  She spoke randomly, frantically, afraid of this Pandora's Box she had opened.

John looked at her, in full possession of his senses again.  "Oh, I apologize, my dear.  I didn't mean to frighten you so.  Of course, I would never contemplate taking my own life.  I love Belle too much to do such a thing to her.  And my work is not yet finished.  There still remains one task left to complete."  A slight smile crossed his face, as he recalled the real purpose for his journey.  

Officially, it was just an inspection tour ordered by King Charles; but his real instructions involved so much more than just an inspection.  He was called upon to rouse interest in an attack against the Spanish Main.  King Charles had his eye on controlling the whole of the West Indies, and Spain stood in the way of those dreams.  Lord John had his own reasons for wanting the Spanish influence in South America and the Caribbean destroyed.  He had long been an opponent of Spain's tyrannical policies, not the least because of Isabella's strong faith.  He shuddered to think what would have happened to such a pure soul if she had fallen into the hands of the Inquisitors.  There were some things worse even than drowning.  

~~*~~

Mimi made her way down the narrow passageway rocking gently to and fro with the movement of the ship.  Her stomach gave a small lurch, but at least she kept her breakfast down.  Which was more than she could say for her young mistress.  She wrinkled her nose at the smell as she carried the bucket up the stairs and onto the deck to be emptied.  Even sick as she was, Belle couldn't stand the thought of having such a reminder around her.  Mimi only hoped that she would return before Belle was sick again.

She emerged into the bright light of early morning and breathed deeply of the fresh ocean air.  Even while the ship's motion took some getting used to, Mimi knew she was going to like life at sea.  There was something so invigorating and exciting about it.  Especially to a girl so starved for adventure.  She could only hope to have her mistress's good fortune and meet a man as perfect for her as Commander Brady was for Lady Isabelle.  

A sailor gave a low whistle as she passed by.  She lifted her chin haughtily and ignored him.  She'd been around such men all her life, and they held no charms for her.  Unlike so many of her girlhood friends, she had no intention on throwing herself away for some fleeting pleasure in the arms of a man who wouldn't stay long enough to watch the sunrise.  She had better plans for her life.  She'd rather stay a maiden all her life than become so cheap.  Just because one wasn't born a lady, didn't mean one couldn't behave like one.  

Mimi accomplished her task and prepared to return, before spotting an unusual sight.  Lord John was talking to Lady Chloe.  They both seemed so serious and sad.  That alone might not have been enough to catch her eye, as Lord John had always acted as a second father to Belle's friend.  But when combined with the presence of Jan Spears watching them surreptitiously from a short distance away, hidden behind the wheelhouse, it meant that something was most definitely wrong. 

Mimi's eyes narrowed as she studied the alert, fox-like cunning on Jan's face.  The others of course hadn't noticed.  No one ever seemed to see the things she did.  But Mimi's upbringing had prepared her for better observing skills than those of Chloe and Belle.  Mimi hadn't trusted Jan from day one.  She was too self-assured, not subservient enough.  She seemed to take delight in flouting Chloe's orders.  Like she knew her position was secure.  She had pointed out on more than one occasion that she worked not for Lady Chloe, but for Mr. Kiriakis.  

Mimi knew the behavior of a lady's maid; and despite Jan's impeccable references, she didn't carry herself like one.  She was haughty, arrogant.  If that girl was a maid, then Mimi was the rightful Queen of England.  Lady Chloe didn't like her either, but she didn't seem willing to let on.  It was almost as if she was afraid of Jan.  Which, Mimi thought ruefully, she probably was.  And with good reason.  The only reason Mimi could think of for Philip to engage a maid like that for his betrothed would be to spy on her.  

Well, Mimi had had enough of it.  It wasn't fair to Lady Chloe.  Chloe had her faults—many of them, in Mimi's opinion.  But she was a virtuous woman, who didn't deserve to be treated this way.  And Mimi would be damned before she let Jan Spears defame the good name of Lady Belle Black's dearest friend in all the world.  Especially if Jan involved Belle's father in her slanders.  Pushing the sleeves of her plain brown workwoman's dress up above her elbows as if preparing for a fight, Mimi stalked across the deck for a long-overdue confrontation with Jan.  

Jan Spears whirled around as she heard Mimi approach.  Her dark cinnamon eyes flashing with momentary fear before settling back into annoyance and indifference when she saw who it was.  "What do you want?" she greeted her harshly, as if Mimi was the one doing wrong.  

Mimi crossed her arms, unaffected by Jan's attempt to put her on the defensive.  "I could ask you the same thing, but I feel it would be a waste.  You're obviously above such things as telling the truth.  Still, I wonder how Lady Chloe would take the news that her maid is spying on her when she left you with instructions to stay below."  

Jan raised her chin defiantly.  "Tell her whatever you like.  You know full well there's nothing she can do to me.  I am employed by Mr. Kiriakis to see his future wife safely to his side."  Mimi might have been mistaken, but she thought she detected a note of resentment in Jan's voice.  "I intend to do that, and I intend to make sure she arrives there as pure as she was on the day he met her."  
  


Mimi felt hot anger on behalf of Chloe surge through her.  She'd never realized before how much she cared for Belle's best friend until she heard her threatened.  For that's what Jan's words amounted to, a threat to denounce and defame her if the occasion arose.  "There is no one in the world more pure than Lady Chloe, unless it's my own mistress.  And if you knew anything about innocence yourself, you would know that."

Jan's eyes narrowed dangerously at Mimi's blatant attack on her character.  Choosing the wiser course and avoiding responding in anger, she turned her attention back to Chloe and Lord Black.  She inclined her head sardonically.  "Well, maybe I'm seeing things through my obviously sin-clouded eyes, but I don't think that looks so innocent, do you?"  

Mimi followed her gaze to the twosome.  Chloe's hand rested gently on top of Lord John's while she looked up at him with an expression in her eyes that could easily be misinterpreted, if the observer was so inclined.  John was speaking in low tones to Chloe; and Mimi was suddenly grateful she didn't have to analyze the look on his face.  She hated to think what a depraved person like Jan would think of it.  But Mimi saw the scene for what it was.  "I think it looks perfectly fine," she maintained stoutly.  "Lord Black has known Lady Chloe since she was just a child.  He's like a second father to her."

Jan smiled coldly, vindictively.  "No doubt that's what you and the rest of them would like people to think, but I'll make sure Mr. Kiriakis knows of this.  I'm sure he will not be pleased."  That said, she spared Mimi one more icy glare before turning on her heel and marching down the steps.  Mimi watched her go, her feeling of apprehension growing by the moment.  Lady Chloe had made a dangerous enemy, whether she knew it or not.

~~*~~

_Port Royal, Jamaica_

Jason made his way into the crowded tavern, pushing his way past several drunken buccaneers.  He felt out of place in a group he would normally have been a hero amongst.  But few, if any, would recognize him here.  Brady made sure of that.  They left the boat and the crew in Tortuga for that exact reason.  While most of the buccaneers were welcomed with open arms in Jamaica, those who broke the Rules of the Brethren, those who crossed the line from buccaneer to pirate were in danger not only from the government but by their fellow adventurers.  

So Jason had put aside his traditional pirate's garb, for the uncomfortable disguise of a gentleman's gentleman.  He knew that any true person of society would be able to see that he was not a simple valet, but he was able to fool the masses here quite easily.  He was met with alternating suspicious glances and respectful distance.  That was just fine with him.  The farther they stayed away from him, the less his chances of getting exposed for what he really was.  

He searched the unruly crowd for the familiar face of his informant.  Every time they docked in Port Royal, Jason never failed to learn something new and helpful off of Lucas Roberts.  Once a pirate himself, Lucas had given up the sea for another full-time occupation.  That of drinking a never-ending supply of rum.  He supplemented his income with selling the secrets of many prominent citizens of the island.  Jason couldn't even begin to guess where he learned all he did, but Lucas had yet to be proven wrong.

Jason finally spotted him in a table in a far corner, laughing uproariously at the antics of several of his drunken comrades.  When Jason approached, the table grew silent under the force of his stare.  Lucas watched him for several minutes, before his eyes focused enough for him to recognize Jason.  As soon as he did, his face broke into a drunken smile.  "Welles!" he slurred happily.  "Have a seat."  He gestured wildly with his mug.  

"Thanks, I will," said Jason, responding to his alias.  He glared at Lucas's remaining companions until they grudgingly sauntered off.  Jason slipped into the seat next to Lucas.  "So, my old friend, how are you?"  He grinned, slapping him on the back and making sure to keep Lucas in a jovial mood.  He was always more talkative when he was in high spirits.  

"I am good, my friend.  It's been a long time since I've seen you.  Has that boss of yours been keeping you locked onto that plantation?"  Lucas laughed heartily for no apparent reason.  

Jason laughed along with him.  "Not quite.  But we've been keeping busy.  It's difficult to start a new plantation."  _Especially when you don't use slaves and are never there, Jason thought wryly.  Brady had bought the small sugarcane plantation the year before to give them a better cover when they came back to land.  It also gave them a place to lie low if they ever needed it._

"You should tell your boss to be careful," Lucas warned, the rum already starting to loosen his tongue.  

"Why's that?" Jason asked, trying to make his voice sound casual, even as his stomach lurched.  Had their secret finally been found out?  Were they going to be arrested and hanged at Execution Dock after all?

"He's made himself an enemy," Lucas confided in a low tone, as he leaned in towards Jason.  "And it's a big one.  Kiriakis.  Philip Kiriakis."  Lucas's voice practically dripped with his loathing.  "Pussy-footed, yellow-livered coward.  Always hated that boy.  Be damned if I know how he came by all that money."

"But what's he got against my master?" Jason asked, hoping to keep Lucas to the point.  It didn't matter to him how Philip got his money.  The point was that he had it, enough of it to cause serious problems for Brady and Jason if he put it use with the right people.

"Ah, hell, Welles," Lucas mumbled.  "That's pretty obvious, ain't it?  Your plantation borders his.  He doesn't much care for neighbors, 'specially small ones.  If you have any say with that boss, I'd tell him to sell out and quick-like.  Philyboy don't like the way you're doing things, and he'll make a heap of trouble for you if you give him the chance."

Jason filed it away to memory, relieved just to know that their secret was still safe for the time being.  "Thanks, Lucas.  I'll be sure to let him know.  Now, any real news for me?"  He laid out several pieces of eight on the table, letting their rich gold sparkle catch Lucas's avaricious eye.  

Lucas gathered them up greedily.  "Still don't see what good this does you.  Not like that gentleman of yours ever leaves the plantation.  What's he care what's going on?"  
  


Jason smiled, humoring him.  "My master likes to know what's going on in the world, even if it doesn't personally affect him.  He's eccentric to say the least.  So what about it?  Anything new and interesting going on?"  He listened attentively as Lucas rambled on about the various local gossip and, more importantly, the position of various ships of interest.  Jason filed away everything of import in his brain for later recollection.  No doubt Lucas had no idea of the interesting facts he had stored away along with the meaningless, idle prattle.  

"Oh, and speaking of Kiriakis, his bride is on the way here from England.  Though if she makes it here unscarred, it will be a miracle," Lucas added, with a hint of approaching moroseness.  He drained his rum.

"Why do you say that?" Jason pried, hoping he had stumbled across a scandal involving Philip Kiriakis.  It would come in handy to have something against him if he became a problem.

Lucas shook his head.  "Bad business, Welles.  Bad business, indeed.  See, she's crossing in the company of some English bigwig.  Some lord who's supposed to rile up anger against the Spanish.  Though no one's s'posed to know that.  Big secret, but the secret's out.  And someone knows who shouldn't.  The Spanish have issued an order that he's not to reach Port Royal alive."

"You mean England's actually thinking about fighting against Spain?" Jason asked, grasping at the glimmer of hope in Lucas's words.

Lucas shrugged.  "S'pose so.  But doubt they'll do anything about it, if this one ends up dead.  Not sure how they'll manage it, though, short of attacking the ship he's on.  He's coming with a cover of bringing over his daughter to be married.  Her and her friend.  The friend is the one who's marrying Philyboy."

Jason frowned, letting the reference slide.  What did it matter to him?  His business was to line up the next series of galleons to attack.  But deep within him, he felt his spirit give way.  This man, whoever he was, was Jason's hope that maybe someday this could all end.  If England went to war with Spain, he could fight them in a more honorable way.  They could extract more than vengeance.  They could fight for justice.  But it was pointless to consider it.  Not when this man, whoever he was, would be dead before he could set foot in the West Indies, before he could even get a glimpse of the Spanish atrocities that haunted Jason on a daily basis.

~~*~~

"I'm telling you, this menace has to be stopped."  Philip banged his fist against the table for emphasis, causing several lemonades to spill on the teakwood table.  "If these pirates aren't handed over to the authorities and soon, they'll provoke us into a war with Spain.  And then what will happen to our plantations?"  Murmurs of agreement were heard around the table.

"What do you say, Commander?" one of the other planters spoke up, addressing naval Commander Shawn Douglas Brady who stood at attention to one side of the table.  "From a naval perspective, is England capable of fighting the Spanish and still protecting its interests here in the West Indies?  Especially Jamaica."

Shawn cleared his throat, unwilling to voice his true, personal opinion about the possibility of war with Spain and English plantations in the Caribbean.  He doubted his views would go over that well among the gathering of Jamaica's wealthy sugarcane planters.  "Well, sir, I would have to say at this point that no, His Majesty's Navy is not equipped to defend Jamaica and fight a war against the Spanish."  

Philip smirked triumphantly around at the table of his peers.  His smile abruptly fell however when Shawn continued.  "Which is exactly why the buccaneers are so important to Jamaica's security.  There are less than a dozen of His Majesty's ships in the whole of the Caribbean at this time.  Obviously, once the navy is a stronger presence here, the privateers will be taken care of.  But for the present, I think it's in the best interests of Jamaica and your plantations to maintain good relations with the buccaneers.  They're your strongest line of defense against the Spanish in case of war."

Philip's jaw clenched as his fellow plantation owners seemed put back at ease by Shawn's words.  He was losing their support, and by the words of the person he'd expected to have the most against the buccaneers.  As a man brought up to believe in order and discipline and integrity, Shawn should have been an outspoken opponent of piracy.  Instead, he seemed to have some sort of respect for them.  

"Buccaneers, privateers," Philip sneered.  "Why can't you just call them for what they really are?  Pirates.  Low, vile filth that pollute the seas and our shores when we allow them sanctuary here.  Do we really want to make Port Royal a hideout for common cutthroats, thieves, and murderers?"

"Come now," an elderly, distinguished planter spoke up.  "While their tactics might leave a little to be desired, and they're certainly not the kind of riffraff I want socializing with myself and my family, there is something heroic about what they're doing.  Commander Brady is right.  They protect us from the Spanish, as well as giving Spain a taste of its own medicine."

"You think that the Spanish deserve this?  You think these men are heroes?" Philip returned incredulously.  "The first report that reached my ears when I returned to Jamaica was the tale of the _El Diablo."  Several of the men shifted in their seats as the horrors of that story was remembered.  "I know most of you have heard the story; but for those of you who haven't, or those who chose not to believe it, let me refresh your memory.  I heard it straight from the lips of the only surviving passenger.  He was a nothing, only a common galley cook.  But he stood and watched as one by one the nefarious pirate crew slaughtered everyone from the __capitan__ to the priest to the lowliest common sailor."_

"I think you chose a poor example," the elder man spoke up again.  "It's well known that _The Vengeance is captained by a man with no regard at all for human life.  It's no common buccaneering ship.  This is a crew bent on revenge for whatever wrongs they feel that Spain has committed against them.  I've heard that Captain Blackheart is so called because the Spanish branded him on his chest right above his heart.  Some say his heart itself was burned and blackened."  _

Nods of agreement circulated the table, along with a collective shiver of fear.  Philip saw his opportunity and took it.  "So you will agree with me that a man like this should be executed as the contemptible murderer he is?"

"Of course.  If you can catch him, that is," a slow voice drawled from the doorway.  Heads shot in the direction of the late arrival.  A tall blonde man stood leaning indolently against the doorframe.  He was impeccably dressed in his white suit, even down to his ebony walking stick, which was obviously only used for decorative purposes.  Nothing about this man seemed weak, except for the lazy look in his eyes.  He looked as though he was perennially bored by life.  

"Victor!" Shawn greeted him brightly, stepping away from the table to shake hands with his friend.  "I was beginning to give up on you.  I'm glad you were able to tear yourself away from your beloved plantation."

Philip snorted derisively.  "The rest of us managed to do that, and still arrive on time," he pointed out.  He had an especial loathing for his arrogant, apathetic neighbor.  Victor Alamain had owned his small excuse for a plantation for less than a year, and yet still had the nerve to act as though he belonged with them.  He had the gall to act the equal of the richest among them.  Not to mention he was one of the most dull-witted men that Philip had ever had the misfortune to meet.  Something about him grated on Philip's already raw nerves.

"Ah, yes," Victor said, his lazy eyes traveling to Philip's face.  If he picked up on Philip's obvious loathing for him, he didn't show it.  "So nice to see you again, Kiriakis.  How was your trip to England?  Enjoy yourself?  Get to meet His Majesty?"  He said all this with careless indifference that only intensified Philip's unrelenting hatred towards him.

"We were trying to have a meeting here, Alamain," he ground out.  "If you're planning to stay for it, then kindly take a seat and shut your mouth.  Otherwise, why don't you leave?"  Several eyebrows were raised at the ferocity in Philip's tone, but Victor's weren't among them.

He simply laughed and sat down.  "Right to the point, eh, chap?  Well, well.  Get on with it then.  What were you talking of?  Oh yes.  That dread pirate…what's his name."  He waved his hand airily for emphasis.  Shawn barely bit back his laughter in the background.  He schooled his face to show nothing of what he was feeling.  An old military trick he had learned from his father.  

"Captain Blackheart," Philip growled menacingly.  Victor seemed utterly unaffected by his anger.  But he was the only one in the room.  The other gentlemen shifted their gazes from one to the other with mingled curiosity and amusement.  "And he is just one example of the pirate ruffians this island gives quarter to.  Maybe he's more audacious and dastardly in his exploits, but they're all the same.  Vile filth that should be captured and executed as an example to any who dare to flout the rules of all common decency."

"Bravo!  Well said."  Victor banged his walking stick down to accentuate his statement.  "I'm sure King Phillip couldn't have said it better himself.  Did you perhaps meet the Spanish king as well during your European vacation?"  Nervous laughter passed around the table as Philip turned a vivid shade of red.

"I am a loyal citizen of England and His Majesty King Charles," Philip said slowly and distinctly, enunciating every word, even as his hands clenched and unclenched with the desire to teach that arrogant bastard a lesson.  "I see a crime against humanity to be a crime against England as well.  It may be Spanish blood being spilt, but it's still human blood.  And may I remind you, Alamain, that England is not at war with Spain.  They are our peaceful neighbors."

Even Shawn couldn't stop himself from snickering at that statement.  "There is nothing remotely peaceful about Spain," he protested with not the slightest bit of humor.  "Perhaps they haven't declared war on us; but if anyone is committing atrocities worthy of condemnation, it's Spain."  He stopped himself short of saying what he truly felt.  That England was cowardly for not going to war against Spain.  He couldn't say such things without jeopardizing his commission.

But as he had feared, the remarks he did make had only the effect of angering the planters.  "Leave Spain to her own worries," said one of the men, and the others nodded their agreement, if not expressing it vocally.  The general consensus among these worthy gentlemen was that as long as their plantations were safe, it didn't matter that the Spanish were torturing and slaughtering people for the crime of worshipping in a different church than theirs.  "It's none of England's business."

Victor abruptly stood, bowing to the assembly.  "It would seem that our views are offending the other gentleman, Shawn.  Shall we remove our offending presence?"  Without waiting for anyone to reply, he walked out of the room with the same dramatic flare he had entered it.  Shawn followed quickly, even as the buzzing amongst the planters started.

Shawn laughed loudly as they finally made it out of Philip's mansion onto the crowded streets of Port Royal.  "You certainly know how to make yourself noticed, my friend.  I'll give you that.  But what was the point of that anyway?  You only made Philip hate you more; and I don't think that's an enemy even you want to make, Blackheart."

The pirate grinned wickedly.  "It will be a cold day in hell before I worry about an idiotic swaggerer like that.  He's just showing off.  I wouldn't be surprised if he has his eye on the governorship.  Besides, I accomplished my mission.  I got you out of there, didn't I?  Now, how about we can go somewhere to get a drink?"

Shawn nodded his agreement, wiping the sweat off his brow.  Even a few minutes out in the heat of the day in Port Royal was enough to break him into a sweat.  He pulled the collar of his uniform loose.  "What I wouldn't give for a uniform like yours, Alamain."

He laughed.  "You should suggest it to His Majesty on your next trip home.  I'm surprised you didn't find time to mention it this time.  I'm sure King Charles would be delighted to learn that one of his highest ranking officers in the Caribbean is the trusted friend of that infamous Captain Blackheart he wants so desperately to hang."

Shawn smiled for only a moment before instantly sobering as they headed into one of Port Royal's many taverns.  "They will hang you one day you know, my friend.  Another stunt like the one with the _El Diablo and not all the interference in the world on my part will be enough to save you.  Why can't you just give up this foolish piracy and settle back to life on your plantation?  I'm sure you're rich enough by now."_

"It's not about the money," Brady muttered, then forced himself to lighten up as he and Shawn sat down to a table with their rum.  "Besides, if I were to give up the sea, who would save your sorry ass when you get into another jam?"

Shawn smiled sheepishly.  He wasn't in the habit of befriending pirates, especially not incorrigible ones with obvious death wishes.  But he owed his life to the man across from him.  When Shawn had first been stationed in the Caribbean, he had been an unseasoned youth; and through a foolish mistake of his own making, he had fallen overboard and been left for dead.  If _The Vengeance hadn't come along when it did, he would have been a dead man.  And what had begun as a debt of honor had grown into a friendship built of mutual respect and affection.  _

"So how did your trip to England go?" Brady asked pleasantly.  "Did everything go as planned?" 

Shawn nodded his head vigorously, a rather foppish smile on his handsome face.  "On more fronts than one.  But of course, I'll start with the news I know is of significance to you.  I got my audience with the Admiralty.  They were highly impressed with the reports I handed them.  I doubt they would have been quite so impressed had they known that it was you that wrote them instead of me; but at any rate, it got their attention.  They're sending a man over to look into the possibilities of ordering a full-fledged attack on the Spanish Main."

Brady barley bit back his cry of joy.  Finally.  After all this time, it might yet be possible to rid the whole of the Spanish Main of those disgusting pigs.  It would be enough.  It would be a start.  He didn't care if he died in the process, at last he would have his revenge.  "Thank you, Shawn," he said with honest gratitude, clapping him on the shoulder.  "Not many would take the risks you have for a common pirate like me."

Shawn smiled ruefully.  "Pirate?  Yes.  Common?  Most definitely not.  You've developed quite a reputation, my good man.  They've heard of you even back in jolly old England.  And I didn't do this just for you.  I honestly believe in this cause.  And I'd like a chance to fight the Spanish myself.  In my own way."

"Meaning by the book," Brady filled in.  "Yes, it might be nice to fight on the same side for once.  So you mentioned other good news.  What is it, Shawn?  What's with the idiotic look on your face?  I can only assume you've fallen in love."  

Shawn laughed self-consciously.  "Am I that transparent?"  The look on Brady's face was answer enough.  "Okay.  Yes, I'm in love, Alamain.  More than in love.  I'm engaged.  To the most beautiful, wonderful, purest, sweetest, kindest angel that has ever walked the face of the earth.  You should see her, old chap…"  He paused, contemplating his handsome, dangerous-looking best friend.  "Well, maybe not.  I'd hate to lose her before she's even mine."

Brady laughed uproariously.  "Don't worry, my friend.  I would never take away your lady.  But if she's half the things you say she is, you won't even have to worry about it.  No doubt she is as foolishly devoted to you as you are to her.  So who is the lucky girl?  When does she arrive?"

"She's arriving on the _Dolphin in a few weeks, along with her father—who just happens to be the man the Admiralty chose to complete your mission."  Brady leaned forward, intrigued.  "Lord John Black, and his daughter is my sweet Isabella."_

Brady felt like he'd been punched in the gut.  The world started spinning wildly.  "Who did you say?" he asked quietly.  "Who is the Admiralty sending?"

Shawn frowned at the look on his friend's face.  "Lord John Black, fourth Viscount of Steventon.  Why?  What's the matter?  Do you know him?"  He'd never seen such a look on Blackheart's face before.  He was always so cool, so in control of his emotions.  But at the moment, he looked like he'd come face to face with a ghost.

Brady struggled to breathe.  The very air was oppressive.  "No," he managed to get out.  "No, I don't know him.  Excuse me.  I…I think I've had too much rum."  Without another word, he pushed away from the table and shoved his way out the door, ignoring Shawn's protests that he hadn't even finished his mug.  As soon as Brady made it to the street, he turned the corner and leaned against the side of the building weakly.  It couldn't be.  It just couldn't be.  And yet it was.  His father had returned from the grave._     _


	3. Chapter Three

Moonlight on the Caribbean  
  
  
  
Chapter Three  
  
The H.M.S. Dolphin  
  
Belle groaned miserably as the ship continued to roll along the waves. Whoever invented sea travel should be shot. What made it worse was that Chloe and Mimi seemed entirely unaffected by it. Like they had spent their whole lives at sea. Like it was where they were supposed to be. It wasn't fair, especially since Belle was the one who was going to be spending her life with a sailor. How would she ever survive?  
  
Mimi wrung out the cloth and rewet it for her mistress's head. She didn't stop to think of her own weariness after taking care of Belle for the past ten hours since they'd been at sea. She was much more than Belle's maid. She was one of her best friends. And Belle wasn't feeling well. What did her own fatigue matter compared to that? A slight knock on the door sounded, and Lord Black peeked his head in. "How is she doing?" he whispered softly to Mimi.  
  
"Well, she is alive and still has her hearing fully intact," Belle answered scathingly, or as scathingly as she could with her head lolling over a bucket. She wasn't in a mood to be in a good humor with anyone still able to walk upright. "But her insides seem to have melted away to practically nothing."  
  
John frowned, instantly coming to his daughter's side. He stroked the sticky blonde hair away from her sweaty brow. He hadn't seen her this sick since she had gotten scarlet fever as a child. He could still remember the fear of those days, the fear that he might lose yet another child. Marlena and Belle's nursemaids hadn't allowed him to do anything for her then, but he was the only one here for her now. Well, she had Mimi as well. But one look at the face of the other girl showed her exhaustion. Gently, he took the washrag out of her hand. "Go get some rest, Mimi," he instructed softly. "I'll stay with Izzy for a while."  
  
Mimi shot him a look of profound relief. She could entrust Belle to her father's hands. It would be all right to get a few hours sleep now. As soon as she took care of one last thing. Silently, she slipped from the room, pausing momentarily to take in the tender scene as John comforted his ailing daughter. Belle was lucky to have a father like that. Shaking her head fondly, she headed down the corridor in search of the other lady on the voyage.  
  
"When will this go away, Daddy?" Belle complained piteously. She didn't even have anything left inside of her to throw up. All she could do was retch miserable dry heaves every time the ship hit a swell. And this was only the first day. She wouldn't last. There was no way she could possibly last.  
  
John wet her forehead and neck with the cloth, taking gentle care of his most prized possession. "Soon, Izzy, soon," he comforted her. "It will just take you a while to get used to the sea." He frowned. It was probably his fault that this was so hard on her. He had forbidden her from going on so much as a lazy boat ride down the Thames before this. He had been too afraid of losing her. And he would lose her anyway, but in another way.  
  
Through her misery, Belle could sense the tense air her father carried with him. She knew what he was thinking of. She had always known what his moods meant, since she was a small child. Her mother tried to pretend like it didn't happen, like it didn't matter anymore; and Belle had honored her wishes and her father's obvious need for silence about the issue. But deep down, she had always wondered. What was Lord John's first family like? What would her brother have been like if he had lived? Had her father loved Brady more than he loved her?  
  
"Daddy," she said softly, clutching hold of his hand and looking at him with blue eyes dulled by fever, but still bright with affection. "I love you." She didn't know what else to say. She had never known what to say. That was her problem. All the comfort she had to offer him was her unconditional love; but somewhere deep down, she feared that that wasn't enough. Nothing she could do would ever be enough to make up for his loss. Even her name was a reminder of his past. A past none of them would ever be able to escape.  
  
"I love you too, princess," John said, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. He loved her so much. He didn't know how to tell her. She was the only source of joy in his life. She had always been his reason for living, his strength to go on. And he had to tell her this. Time was running short. He didn't understand how or why he knew, he just did. His days on earth were numbered. He'd been feeling it for weeks now. He didn't regret it. He looked forward to being reunited with his other Isabella and their son. It had been the day he'd been waiting for and praying for, for years. But how to say goodbye to a daughter he loved and cherished?  
  
Belle had never known the words "I love you" could cause so much pain. But the way her father said them made them sound like an unfinished thought. "I love you, but…" But not enough. But you're still not them. But you'll never be good enough. She couldn't let herself focus on that. She had to be the bright, cheerful angel everyone expected her to be. Focus on the positive, she told herself, mentally rerunning her life philosophy. She had a mother who adored her and a fiancé who was crazy about her. Why couldn't that be enough?  
  
Lord Black frowned. Belle had to be incredibly sick to be looking at him like that. She couldn't even manage her usual contagious smile. "Just sleep now, Izzy," he told her in a near whisper. "You'll feel better in the morning."  
  
Belle nodded, but she knew it was a lie. Sleep couldn't cure what really ailed her. She might get past this seasickness, probably would. But nothing would ever take away that look she had seen in her father's eyes. It was a heart wound that would never heal. The truth was, she wasn't good enough.  
  
~~*~~  
  
Mimi scowled when it was Jan who opened the door to Chloe's cabin. She had been praying that Jan wouldn't be there. It would make this so much easier. "Did you have a message or something to deliver?" Jan asked in a low tone so that her mistress wouldn't hear her, even as her eyes shot daggers at Mimi. She knew very well why that nosy Lockhart bitch was here.  
  
"Yes, I do," Mimi replied coldly, meeting Jan's dark, threatening eyes unflinchingly. "And I have to give it to Lady Chloe in person." She tried to dodge around Jan into the small cabin room, but Jan was having none of it. She shifted her weight slightly, effectively blocking Mimi's entrance.  
  
"Lady Wesley is resting now and does not wish to be disturbed," Jan hissed. "Tell me your message, and I will make sure she gets it." It was unimportant of course whether Chloe knew Jan was watching her or not, but her task would be much easier to accomplish if her mistress continued to trust her in any small degree. Mimi's telling tales would only complicate matters unnecessarily.  
  
Mimi crossed her arms. She wasn't about to let Jan Spears beat her, not on something this important. "I think Lady Wesley can speak for herself," she practically yelled, with the clear purpose of making herself heard by Chloe.  
  
She wasn't disappointed. "What's going on here?" Chloe asked as she trudged to the doorway. Her hair was released from its normal intricate style and flowed freely down her back in glistening waves. She had taken off her confining dress and corset and stood with her royal blue dressing gown wrapped around her petticoat. Jan had no choice but to step away from the doorway, revealing the other maid to the lady's view. "Mimi, is everything all right? Is there something wrong with Belle?"  
  
Mimi shook her head. "Lady Isabelle is the same as she's been all day. No better, no worse. But there is something I must tell you." She shot a spiteful glance at Jan. "Alone."  
  
Chloe stared at her in bewilderment. She'd never seen Mimi act so forward before. Usually Belle's maid was content to just sit back in the shadows. Whatever this was, it was important. She nodded, turning to Jan. "Leave us." Jan obediently bowed to her mistress's wishes, though she couldn't resist throwing Mimi one last nasty look over her shoulder as she left. "Now, what's this all about?" Chloe asked, as soon as Jan had left the room.  
  
Mimi came in, shutting the door firmly behind her once she saw Jan disappear around the corner of the passageway. "I'm sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, m'lady; but this is something I felt imperative to tell you." There was a grave dignity in her manner that put her on the same level as the grandest lady in the world, though she would have scoffed at the thought.  
  
Chloe saw it however. She'd never paid much attention to Belle's maid before, but something about her suddenly struck her eye. This was a mere girl, no older than Belle or herself. But she seemed older somehow, as if she had gone through life the hard way and learned a thousand lessons to mature her. And no doubt she had. Chloe felt a sudden and strange feeling of envy. In the sheltered life she had led—and no doubt would continue to lead, if Philip had anything to say about it—nothing had ever come to challenge her, to make her try to be more than she was. It was obvious that Mimi had faced adversity and was stronger because of it. "What is it, Mimi?"  
  
"Lady Wesley, I was above deck for a moment this morning when I spotted you speaking to Lord Black at the rail." Chloe's eyes widened in surprise. The whole thing had been so innocent, an almost fatherly moment. Surely Mimi couldn't think there was something improper about it? Mimi smiled wryly, correctly interpreting Chloe's thoughts. Before the lady could say anything in her own defense, Mimi went on, "I would have thought nothing of it, except for the fact that I suddenly spotted your maid, Jan Spears, lurking in the background, watching you. Spying on you, actually. It can be called no less. When I confronted her about it, she treated me with disdain and your ladyship with the utmost disrespect."  
  
Chloe felt fury rising within her. She had never liked Jan from the moment she arrived in the mansion. She had long suspected that her main purpose in being there wasn't to serve Chloe but to serve Philip, to keep an eye on his bride—his possession, Chloe couldn't help but thinking—and make sure she arrived in Jamaica still pure as the driven snow. "And what did she make of the scene?" she asked darkly, her sapphire eyes flashing fire.  
  
Mimi shook her head, almost embarrassed to voice such awful accusations. "She insisted on putting the worst face on it, my lady; but I don't believe even she truly believes her words. She wants to cause trouble for you. I'm not telling you this to get Jan in trouble, only to warn you to be on your guard around her. She has an evil mind and a wicked heart. She would like nothing better than to find a way to hurt you or disgrace you."  
  
"But why?" Chloe asked, failing to understand. She'd never done anything to Jan. Had Jan merely picked up on the underlying resentment she felt towards her? Had she unwittingly said something derogatory of Philip in Jan's presence? She had her enemies at home, people who didn't like her, people she didn't care for. But always there was a reason. She honestly couldn't think of a reason why Jan would hate her so.  
  
Mimi bit her lip, unwilling to share the full weight of her suspicions with Lady Chloe. Chloe, despite the spirit within her that yearned for adventure, was still very much a child. Mimi didn't want to be the one to make Chloe face the harsh realities of life. She'd be forced to face them soon enough. "I don't know, my lady," she lied. "Perhaps she resents her position of servitude. I don't know. All I know is that you would be wise to keep yourself free from even the hint of impropriety around Jan. I don't trust her. And neither should you."  
  
~~*~~  
  
The Titan Sugarcane Plantation, Jamaica  
  
"Would you mind explaining to me, Commander Brady, just what the hell you and Alamain were trying to pull here today?" Philip demanded, his blue-gray eyes as cold as ice as he stared across his desk towards the naval officer standing at attention. Now, of course, he was showing nothing but military diffidence; but that hadn't been the case at the meeting earlier today.  
  
Shawn kept his expression carefully blank. He couldn't allow his personal disgust with the man in front of him become apparent. Philip Kiriakis was a powerful man on this island, which might help explain why he thought that the navy was here solely for his personal benefit. And ever since he had been escorted to England on a diplomatic errand by Shawn's boat, he seemed to consider Shawn yet another one of his lackeys. "Respectfully, sir," Shawn replied calmly, relying on his years of military training. "The planters asked for my opinion and I gave it. The fact that it happened to coincide with the opinions of a man you dislike is not my affair."  
  
"You left with him," Philip argued, his tone at once petulant and disdainful. "You disrupted my meeting. It was a disgraceful display for a member of His Majesty's Navy, and I intend to make sure that King Charles himself hears of it."  
  
Shawn managed to bite back his laughter. He doubted very much whether King Charles would care that he had offended the pride of some common planter in the West Indies. "Again I respectfully disagree, sir. Your fight was with Victor Alamain. Along with everyone else, I was merely a spectator to that. I left with him because he is a friend, and I could see the meeting was going nowhere. Not to mention, I noticed you didn't particularly care for my opinions. I doubt you would have been better served if I had stayed."  
  
Philip eyed him coolly. "I simply find it incomprehensible that a man such as yourself, an honorable man with a military background, would stand in support of those pirates. There's no reason in the world why we need them polluting our waters and our shores. We're in no danger here."  
  
"You think the Spanish don't pose a threat?" Shawn asked incredulously. "If the Spanish decided to attack this or any other British colony in the West Indies, only the buccaneers would stand between them and easy conquest. The royal navy's presence in the Caribbean is virtually non- existent."  
  
"We're not at war with Spain, damn it." Philip brought his fist down harshly on the table, causing ink to splatter on the expensive wood. "The Spanish aren't going to invade Jamaica. They're content with their own presence on the Main. It's the pirates who stir up all the trouble, attacking Spanish ships, looting, pillaging, murdering. Why won't anyone denounce them as the common criminals they are?" Philip was so angry he was practically foaming at the mouth.  
  
Shawn kept his own anger and frustration carefully under control. He would never make Philip understand. Philip, in his beautiful mansion, with all his money and his fine clothes, and his life of privilege. But Shawn had seen what the guarda costa was capable of. He had seen the Dutch colonies after Spanish raids. He had seen the faces of the Peruvian children blackened from working all day in the silver mines. Philip was right. Britain wasn't at war with Spain. Britain was turning its back while these atrocities were being committed. But Spain was at war with the world, with everything good and pure and right. In the name of God and the church, they were slaughtering the innocent. No, Shawn couldn't condemn the buccaneers. If he had his way, he'd be fighting right alongside them.  
  
But he doubted Philip would appreciate his reasoning. He didn't have the ears to hear such words. "All the same, it's better to take precautions, just in case," he drawled instead. "The majority of the people feel safer knowing the buccaneers are here, and I doubt that will change anytime soon."  
  
Philip exhaled loudly, frustrated because he knew Shawn was right. There was nothing to be done about the problem of buccaneers at present. "But the pirates," he protested, trying a different tactic. "Not the buccaneers, the out and out pirates, who sail under no flag but the infamous skull and crossbones. Surely, we can do something about them. This Captain Blackheart, or whatever his name is, you will admit that he deserves to hang along with all his cutthroat crew."  
  
Shawn's expression was doubly veiled. He had been keeping Brady's secret for too long now to let a fool like Kiriakis pry it out of him. "Of course, sir. We are doing all we can in the pursuit and capture of infamous pirates such as the man you spoke of. The problem is that such men rarely take shelter in Jamaica. They hide instead on the French island of Tortuga where we have no authority, and we all know how corrupt the government there is."  
  
Philip grimaced. "Why can't you just take him at sea?" he demanded. "That's where he does his damage anyway."  
  
"His Majesty's Navy isn't in the business of sending its fleets out in pursuit of common criminals," Shawn recited in clipped tones. "If we find pirate vessels in our patrols, they will naturally be brought back to Port Royal where the crews will face trial and execution. But these men aren't stupid enough to cross paths with us. There's a reason these boats are able to rob great Spanish galleons. They're small and they're fast and they're easy to maneuver. They can hide in almost any cove, and we'd never find them. These men know the waters better than anyone."  
  
"Forgive me if I sound rude, but you seem damn lazy to me, Commander," Philip spat out. "Excuses, excuses. Now is the time for action! Mark my words, if we don't put an end to this menace, the time will come when not even British ships will be safe from these murdering thieves."  
  
~~*~~  
  
The Alamain Plantation, Jamaica  
  
Jason laughed uproariously as Brady recounted his confrontation with Philip Kiriakis. He even did a worthy impression of the unworthy gentleman. Suddenly, he sobered, remembering Lucas's words. "Brady, I'd be careful around Kiriakis from now on. He may be irrational, but he's not a complete fool. And he's powerful. You don't want to give him reason to take a closer look at you and your past."  
  
Brady brushed his friend's concern aside. "Don't worry, Jase. I'm not going to do anything stupid, but I'm not going to let that imbecile go unchallenged either. Kiriakis is an annoyance, an arrogant fop who thinks he's something more than he really is. He deserves to be put in his place every once in a while."  
  
Jason shook his head, knowing that further argument was futile. Brady knew a thing or two about arrogance himself, and it was going to get him in trouble someday. Jase just hoped he would be around to help him out before it was the end of him. "He hates you, you know," he commented, hoping to make Brady see reason.  
  
"Who doesn't?" Brady retorted, grinning devilishly, before putting down his bottle of rum and leaning in towards Jason. "Let's forget about Philip. Tell me, what did Lucas have to say? Any good marks at sea right now?"  
  
Jason rattled off all the galleons who would be heading back to Madrid within the next few weeks loaded with silver and jewels and—more importantly—fat Spanish dignitaries just waiting to meet the tip of Jason and Brady's rapiers. "Oh, one more thing," Jason added, when he finished. "Lucas mentioned something. There's a British ambassador coming across to see about planning an attack on the Spanish Main." He knew how the news would affect Brady. It was what Brady had been waiting for, for months now.  
  
Brady froze, feeling again that tight twisting of his gut. He had been determined to put all thoughts of his father out of his head. None of it made sense, and he wasn't willing to confront it yet. But here Jason was, mentioning him without even realizing the connection. "I know," Brady said shortly, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from this particular vein. "Shawn told me."  
  
Jason studied his captain carefully. Something was wrong. He looked tense and upset. He must have heard the rest of it. But how? Shawn wouldn't know such a thing. "Did Shawn tell you what the Spanish have done about it?" he asked casually.  
  
An alert look came into Brady's already sharp, intelligent face. "No. What is it, Jase? What's going to happen?" He could feel that tight feeling swelling inside him into dread.  
  
Jason shrugged. "They've ordered that he isn't to reach Port Royal alive. I'm sure every Spanish galleon in the Caribbean is making a beeline for that ship as we speak. No doubt they'll be personally commended by King Phillip himself for being the first to take the ship." He laughed bitterly. "It seems we pirates are about to get a lesson in our own tactics."  
  
Brady's mind whirled in a million inconsequential different little directions, all working towards one particular goal. A few minutes passed with Jason watching him with patient curiosity. He was used to his friend's sudden mood changes. And this was exactly the kind of thing that most depressed him. The Spanish taking innocent lives while Brady and Jason could only sit back and wait, simmering in anger until their chance at revenge.  
  
Suddenly, Brady jumped from his seat and stomped over to his sea chest, throwing things in randomly. "Come on, Jase. We're heading back to Tortuga at first light. If The Vengeance can't outrun some blasted Spanish giants, then she's not worthy of the sea."  
  
Jason stared at Brady, open-mouthed in shock. "What are you talking about? What are you planning to do? Because I know you're not planning to take a British ship, Brady. I know you're not. Please tell me you're not. They'll hang us all for that. We fight the Spanish, remember?" Brady had come up with some crazy ideas in the past, but this one was just beyond insane. It was suicide.  
  
Brady turned back towards his friend, his jaw set, his stance and expression grimly determined. "We are fighting the Spanish. We're going to beat them at their own game. We're going to take the Dolphin before they have the chance."  
  
"The Dolphin?" Jason repeated blankly, before processing that Shawn must have told Brady the name of the ship. "But…but Brady, what good will that do? How will we take it? There's no crew of buccaneers or pirates alive who would kill fellow Protestants, Englishmen at that. How the hell do you expect to take the ship?"  
  
Brady shrugged his shoulders. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he answered confidently. "But I promise, we won't take a single English life. We'll commandeer the ship, take the ambassador off it, and send it on its merry way."  
  
Jason could only gape at him in disbelief. Brady was headstrong always, arrogant often, but never foolish. He never made a move without taking time to consider every possible repercussion. What was happening to him? "This is a death mission," he stated bleakly.  
  
"I won't make you come, my friend," Brady said, with surprising gentleness to his voice. "This is something I have to do, but if you don't want to, you can stay here. There's enough money—"  
  
"Would you shut up?" Jason interrupted him harshly. "You know damn well you can't pull this off without me. I think you're a complete ass for even trying this….But I also think it may be our one chance to do something honorable. Of course I'm coming with you. But you can't just go running off without stopping to concoct a plan first. There are women aboard that ship. Do you know that? The ambassador's daughter is coming across to be married."  
  
Brady paled. He had almost forgotten about that. A girl he'd never heard of before today, and yet she was his sister. "Not a hair on her head will be harmed," he vowed, already feeling protective of the girl whoever she might be. "I'll make sure of it."  
  
"She's not the only one," Jason continued. "There's another girl too. And you're just going to love this. She's Philip Kiriakis' bride." He watched Brady's face with grim bemusement.  
  
For the first time since Jason had told him about the Spanish plot, Brady smiled. "Well, looks like Kiriakis is going to be in my debt, Jase. After all, how can he go on hating a man who saves the life of the woman he's going to marry?"  
  
Jason didn't like the look on Brady's face or the tone of his voice. He had a feeling this whole mission was going to be more trouble than it was worth. 


	4. Chapter Four

Moonlight on the Caribbean  
  
  
  
Chapter Four  
  
The H.M.S. Dolphin  
  
Lady Belle Black had finally managed to make it above deck for the first time since the ship had left port. The seemingly endless case of seasickness had abated enough for her to be restless in that cabin after spending so many days trapped there. Still, she was incredibly weak from her ordeal. Isabella Black had never had a very strong constitution to begin with, and this illness had seemed to drain her of even more vitality, leaving her as fragile as a porcelain doll.  
  
She took small, unsteady steps across the deck, supported by her father on one side and Chloe on the other. She wasn't in a state to notice the beautiful clear blue skies or the gentle rhythm of the lolling sea. The warmth of the tropical sun as it beat down upon them wasn't looked on as a blessing, simply another of the dreadful trials of traveling over this wretched ocean. She might actually kneel and kiss the ground if they ever did make it safely to the shores of Jamaica.  
  
Mimi watched her with sympathetic, attentive eyes as she followed along behind, ready to assist her mistress at the slightest sign of weakness. She had always seen Belle as her little sister, of sorts, even though they were the same age. Belle was meant to be petted and sheltered, taken care of. And Mimi would always be there to do that for her. Besides, watching Belle so closely gave her a reason to avoid the other maid who walked beside her.  
  
Jan let her eyes drift with disdain among all of the four of her companions. She loathed and despised them all. They thought they were so high above her, even that pathetic little servant girl Mimi put on airs, like she was one of them. She never was, and she never would be. Her eyes narrowed as they zeroed in on Lady Chloe Wesley. She hated them above them all. Haughty and arrogant, unconcerned with the feelings of others, she could think only of her own troubles. And Jan knew that she didn't honestly love Philip. She had made that only quite clear. But the day would come when Jan would put them all in their place. She smiled cruelly, knowing that in the end, she would make every one of them suffer.  
  
Chloe felt guilty. Her best friend was still suffering the after-affects of a prolonged battle with seasickness, and here she was wishing this trip would never end. Something about the sea both calmed her restless spirit and set her soul on fire. She could feel adventure warming her skin with even more heat than the unfiltered rays of the sun. She inhaled deeply of the salty sea air, breathing in as well the taste of freedom and romance. It was only in her mind, she knew. Nothing exciting would ever happen to her, closeted safely away in her pampered little world. But as long as the vast ocean stood between her and the man waiting for her on the other side, she could still dream and pretend that something extraordinary would happen to change the course of her destiny.  
  
A sudden buzzing among the sailors on lookout drew Mimi's attention. She lagged behind the rest to satisfy her curiosity about what was going on. Apparently, they had spotted something approaching in the water. Not seeing any great ship sails, Mimi wondered if perhaps they might have come across a whale or a dolphin. The idea intrigued her enough to abandon her spot behind Belle entirely and make her way to the ship's rail.  
  
To her disappointment, she found that it was only a small rowboat in the water with a dozen haggard looking men inside. One of them had stood up to wave a tattered fabric of cloth towards the sailors of the Dolphin. She watched, unmoved by their shipwrecked state. Mimi knew enough of the affairs of the West Indies to have a fleeting suspicion that the men were pirates, and she had no desire to become better acquainted with them. However safe she might be on an English merchant ship, Mimi had known enough of the lower breeds of men. She didn't need to meet a dozen more.  
  
But apparently, such thoughts didn't interfere with the sailors' decision to allow the men to board. The English sense of justice would allow for nothing less. She wasn't sure what kept her glued to her spot as they lowered the rope ladder for the bedraggled men to climb up. Perhaps just the boredom of so many weeks at sea. Anything new had its appeal, even if it wasn't the kind of excitement she felt she needed.  
  
Mimi's breath caught as the first man stepped over the rail. She didn't understand the sudden knot that formed in her stomach. Or rather, she understood it but didn't want to feel it. It was the kind of feeling that got a girl like her into trouble. But he sent heat through her entire being, quite against her will. He was well-built, hair bleached and skin bronzed by so much time in the sun. He exuded a self-assurance and a masculine sexuality that drew her despite herself. Suddenly, he turned his gaze in her direction, and she gasped aloud at the shockwaves that went through her system. His eyes were a deep emerald green, made even more brilliant by his tan skin. He noticed her stare and flashed her an insolent grin, revealing two rows of gleaming white teeth.  
  
Offended by his impudent behavior, and even more unsettled by her instant attraction to him, Mimi averted her eyes, giving him a snub worthy of even Lady Chloe herself. As soon as she had managed to free herself from the spell of his presence, Mimi noticed that the scene had attracted Lord Black and the rest. They had made their way to the fringes of the crowd, and she skirted around to join them.  
  
"What's going on here?" Lord John demanded, looking from the ship's sailors to the growing number of muscled, intimidating men coming over the railing.  
  
The man who had first attracted Mimi's attention stepped forward, bobbing his head respectfully in Lord Black's direction. "Pardon, cap'n," he said with a deference Mimi was almost convinced was false. "We lot were sailors on the Portsmouth but were shipwrecked when the ship hits on a rock. We had almost giv'n up hope when you gents come along. And 'tis grateful we are that you did, cap'n."  
  
Lord John looked somewhat unsettled, and Belle looked positively terrified at the rough group of men. But Chloe's eyes lit up with some long- suppressed inner fire. She didn't care what kind of trouble these men brought with them. She would get one adventure at least, before she was forced to accept a carefully controlled life as a dutiful wife. "I'm not the captain of this boat," Lord Black's clear, deep voice disrupted Chloe's rebellious thoughts. He gestured to the man at his side. "This is Captain Reed. You should speak with him."  
  
As the apparent leader of the men discussed the situation with Captain Austin Reed and asked for passage for him and his men, in return for work, no one noticed when another figure made his way up the side of the ship. He was used to moving with silence, speed, and secrecy; and he timed him movements well. He paused by the bottom of the rail, where he had an unobstructed view of the principles in the little drama.  
  
His eyes traveled over his men, unsurprised but pleased that they had all unobtrusively made their way to positions which were ideal for attacking or retreating as the occasion demanded. Satisfied with the state of affairs, he continued his survey of all the leading players. His eyes settled on the auburn-haired beauty first. Judging by the plain style of her clothes, she was probably a servant of some type. She kept shooting furtive glances at his second-in-command. Moving on, he noticed a dark-haired woman standing next to her, again dressed in the more common garments that indicated a position of servitude. She was watching everything and everyone, as if she was accustomed to spying.  
  
Knowing she held little interest for him, he turned his attention to the dignified, well-dressed man who watched the scene playing out with black brows raised in suspicion. He knew that this was his target. Lord John Black. He pushed away the conflicting emotions warring in his heart as he looked at the father he had thought was dead for most of his existence. He didn't have time to deal with that now. They had a mission to accomplish.  
  
His feelings were less difficult to define when his eyes settled on the petite blonde figure next to the man. She was so lovely and so childlike in her innocence. Even her dress was a pristine white that spoke of purity and goodness and all the things his life had been sorely without. She instantly brought out a protective side to him that he didn't know he possessed. So that was his little sister.  
  
He had almost forgotten the remaining life to be taken into account, until he saw her standing there, apart from all the rest. Even if she had been standing in the center of the crowd, she would have stood apart. There was something about her that spoke of a goddess among the common rabble of mortal beings. One could look at her, but never touch. He took in her dark hair, swept back and up and intricately styled, despite the fact that she was at sea, and the chore must have been excruciatingly tedious for her maid. She was dressed in royal blue satin, extravagant and audacious. And yet still, he couldn't help but notice how it brought out the sapphire light in her eyes.  
  
He had to snap himself out of it. This spell she had cast over him had kept him entranced for far too long. Speed was essential to this plan. Still, she made the most convenient hostage, he reasoned to himself, shutting out the mocking voice that told him he just wanted an excuse to be closer to her. Then, he shut down all his thoughts, all his emotions, and just acted, as he had so many times in the past.  
  
He inched along the side of the ship, balancing carefully on the bottom of the rail, moving away from the safety of the ladder. In no time at all, he was level with the goddess and ready to put his plan into action. She didn't even hear him slip up behind her. He was as agile and silent as a cat. Then, before she even had time to gasp, she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist and pull her backwards while she felt the cold metal of a pistol up against the artery in her throat. "Do exactly as I say, or I'll kill you," came a menacing, husky voice in her ear.  
  
Chloe's breath caught in her throat, as fear coursed through her system. This wasn't exactly what she meant when she'd wished for an adventure. Something a little less dangerous perhaps. She nodded weakly, too scared to make any sound but an almost inaudible squeak. She turned her head slightly to try and see her assailant, but he jerked her head firmly forward. She knew better than to try again.  
  
He began to move forward, bracing her in front of him. He ignored how good she felt in his arms, ignored the way the sweet scent of her was invading and intoxicating his senses. He wasn't allowed to get distracted. In reaction to the unwanted effect she was having on him, his hold around her waist tightened, pulling her body even closer into his. Chloe wasn't prepared for the way his hold on her made her senses spin. It was nothing more than that her stays were too tight, she rationalized. That was it. Coupled with the terror she was feeling, it would be enough to make any woman feel faint.  
  
"I don't believe we'll be needing your hospitality after all, Captain," his voice rang loud and clear across the deck of the ship, gaining the attention of the crowd. Belle screamed when she saw Chloe in the arms of the ruffian masked in black and promptly fainted dead away. There was a slight softening to the man's tone, as he ordered, "Help the lady up."  
  
As one of the pirates moved to follow his captain's orders, John stepped between his daughter and the blackguard. "Don't lay a finger on my little girl," he snarled, with enough menace to make the man back away for a moment. But only for a moment. Then, the rest of the men burnished their cutlasses, rapiers, and pistols; and the pirate lost his fear, calming lifting the tiny woman and throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. And John could do nothing but watch, horrified, all too aware of the two pistols aimed straight for his heart.  
  
"Don't worry, your lordship," the masked man said smoothly. "I swear, not one hair on your daughter's head will be harmed by my men. They have their orders." The tone of his voice was mocking, knowing that added to the intimidation factor. But he was serious, and his men knew it. They had been told in no uncertain terms the dangers of any advances on the ladies. No one wanted to tempt the wrath of Captain Blackheart.  
  
"However," he went on, making his way back towards the ladder slowly, his eyes on all the sailors. They were nothing but common merchant sailors, unremarkable and unused to battle. But he didn't need one foolish act of bravery to mess up his perfect plan. Or rather Jason's perfect plan. His had left too many details unaccounted for. "I cannot promise the same for this charming wench if you don't all do your best to cooperate." He pressed the gun further into Chloe's neck for emphasis, causing her to wince with fright. He wouldn't really fire the pistol, of course; but they didn't need to know that.  
  
"Have you gone mad?" Captain Reed demanded. "This is an English ship. If you are a pirate, don't you think you're attacking the wrong ship?" He searched for some way to stall, to distract, to counterattack. But there was none. These men knew exactly what they were doing. A dozen pirates against a whole crew of seamen, and they would still win.  
  
"Oh, I hardly think so," the other captain returned blithely. "This is the H.M.S. Dolphin bound for Port Royal, Jamaica. On board this vessel travels the prestigious Lord John Black on a diplomatic mission for His Majesty King Charles." He nodded his head in the direction of his father, who even as he spoke was being bound fast with rope. "He is accompanied by his daughter who is engaged to be married to Commander Shawn-Douglas Brady of His Majesty's Royal Navy; and by the young lady I hold in my arms, who if I am not mistaken is supposed to be married to Philip Kiriakis upon arrival." He grinned sadistically. "When you do reach port by the way, give my best to him. Tell him, I'll be happy to return his affianced…if she still wants him, of course."  
  
Chloe's eyes widened in horror at his audacity. She wanted nothing more than to slap his face and loathed her inability to do so. Why wouldn't anyone do something? Wasn't there any man brave enough to intervene and save her? She completely ignored the still alive, though small, part of her that was finding some unholy thrill out of the whole experience. If she could do a good enough job of overlooking it, maybe she'd be able to believe it wasn't there.  
  
"All right. You've made your point," Lord Black spoke up, as two of the scalawags began to haul him towards the side of the ship. "What do you want? How much money?"  
  
"You offend me greatly, your lordship," Captain Blackheart returned in mock dismay. "Why, we ask for no more than the company of your esteemed self and these beautiful ladies on an inspection tour of these islands. I'm sure you'll find it most informative, much more informative than the one I'm sure the King of Spain would like you to take."  
  
Lord John heard the veiled message in the young man's words. Strangely, it sounded more like a warning than a threat. "If I go with you, will you leave my daughter and the others behind?" He searched for one last way to spare his daughter this fate worse than death.  
  
The man sighed in a dramatic show of regret. "Sadly, no. I must insist on the company of all the ladies. After all, what's a cruise in the Caribbean without some lovely faces for a man to see?" He inclined his head towards the two maids, indicating that they too should be prepared for departure. He turned his attention away from Lord John to the merchant captain. "It's been a pleasure, Captain Reed. I do have just a few warnings though before my men and I must sadly take our leave." Even as he spoke, the men began to descend the ladder, taking down first Lady Isabella and then the dark- haired maid.  
  
"The first is this, if I were you, I would not make any attempt to chase us down after we depart or to fire any sort of parting shot, so to speak. Dreadful as the duty is, I intend to keep my pistol aimed straight at this lady's head for the entirety or our little trip. If you do attempt anything foolish, her death and the subsequent deaths of the other captives will be entirely on your heads."  
  
At this, Lord Black made a brief, unsuccessful struggle to free himself before being passed down to the waiting longboat with the other captives and a growing number of the pirates. Only the captain, the green-eyed man, and another remained. Mimi froze in fear as she saw the stinking hulk of a man approach her to throw her over his shoulder as she had seen done to Belle and Jan. But a hand on his shoulder and a slight nod of a head, and the giant of a man backed away, heading for the rail and hoisting his weight over the side.  
  
Mimi froze with quite another emotion, as the man who sent such strange longings through her body approached her. She could do nothing but watch in silence as he stopped before her, that same arrogant smirk crossing his features. He reached out a hand to brush a loose, blowing strand of her hair behind her cheek before pausing to caress her lightly. She knew she ought to run or fight or slap him. Something. Anything. She wasn't weak. She had grown up the hard way and knew all there was to know about men like him. But still, she stood, unwilling to pull away from the electricity of his touch.  
  
He frowned suddenly, as if unable to comprehend his gesture anymore than she had. Then, he bowed exaggeratedly before her. "My lady," he said with flourish. "Allow me to escort you." In a matter of seconds, before Mimi had time to think or react at all, he had swept her off her feet and into his arms. She felt an incomprehensible feeling of security, even more bizarre given the fact that she was virtually being abducted. But as he carried her to the railing and instructed the men to bring her down gently, she felt only confusion and gratitude. And, if she was being honest with herself, more than a slight rush of desire.  
  
Jason remained onboard after seeing the maid safely down. Brady stood beside him now, both of them with their backs to the rail. Jason kept his pistol pointed at the captain, while his cutlass remained within easy reach, while Captain Blackheart's hostage made sure that they all kept their distance. "One last thing, and then we must sadly bid thee adieu." The mocking tone left his voice now entirely, as his deep blue eyes poured into the Captain Reed's consciousness with their essential humanness and caring. "Be careful. The Spanish may not find out what we've done; and if they catch up to you, they'll be much less lenient than we were." That said, he climbed over the rail, the lady still in his arms and made his way down to the awaiting escape vessel, Jason following immediately behind.  
  
The laughter of the men echoed across the water, taunting the merchant seamen, as they rowed away. This was one that would go down in history. They had long thought that Captain Blackheart and Jase Masters were capable of accomplishing anything, and they had certainly proved it today. Five captives taken from an English merchant ship—four of them beautiful wenches, at that—and all without a single drop of blood being shed. It was a welcome novelty to the men hardened by too many battles at sea. If only the captain would let them have some fun with the women…  
  
Mimi, with her usual astuteness, realized that nothing had been left to chance, not even the seating arrangements in the boat. It had all gone smoothly from beginning to end, something which had obviously required a lot of planning and thought. And now, here she sat in one corner of the longboat, tied next to Jan Spears with the green-eyed man keeping guard on her. Lord John was surrounded by four rowers in the middle of the boat; and on the other end, the masked man kept his gun aimed at Chloe as he had promised. Belle lay beside them, still suffering from the vapors. Mimi wanted more than anything to be by her side at this moment.  
  
Unexpectedly—at least to Mimi—Jan made a lunge for the ocean, intent on escape. However, her action apparently wasn't a surprise to the man keeping guard on them. He grabbed her arm in an iron grip, causing Jan to cry out with the pain. "I wouldn't suggest that, miss," he said in a deceptively calm voice. "For starters, your hands are tied, so even if you could swim, which I highly doubt, you wouldn't be able to make it even twenty feet, let alone the hundred yards to the ship. And let's not forget all those lovely sharks in the water. No, if I were you, I'd trust your fate into our hands."  
  
"Why should I?" Jan shot out spitefully, looking ready to take her chances with the sharks. "You're nothing but low, vile filth. You're pirates! Don't try to pretend you're not. I know."  
  
His mouth tipped in a sardonic half smile. "Did any of us ever deny it, miss? We're all pirates here, as bloodthirsty as they come. But for some reason, you're still alive. You should take that as a good sign, I think. So sit down and shut up."  
  
Mimi found herself faced with the perverse desire to laugh. She'd been dying for someone to speak that way to Jan for the longest time. The man caught the glint of amusement in her eye and smiled, the first genuine smile she'd seen on his face so far. It looked good on him. "So what about you?" he asked her, with a much different tone in his voice. "Do you trust me?"  
  
"Yes," she said instinctively, without bothering to consider the possible implications of such a statement. Why had she said it in the first place? This was a man who had just abducted her! How the hell could she trust him? But the fact remained, she did. She knew if he gave his word to her about something, he would rather die than break it.  
  
He looked surprised at her answer, surprised and pleased. His eyes took in her full appearance, and yet not in a way that made her feel at all insulted. "What's your name?" he asked, rather than demanded.  
  
"Mimi Lockhart," she said without a moment's hesitation. She had no idea where they were going or for how long they were going to be there, but she knew that she needed—and had just found—an ally in this man.  
  
He wondered fleetingly why a woman's name had never sounded so sweet, then shoved the thought away. Hell, after all this time at sea, Brunhilde would sound like a lovely name. That had to be the reason for his attraction to her. It had been too long since he had been with a woman. Of course, he felt not the slightest emotion towards the brunette beside her. But, he rationalized, she looked like more trouble than she was worth. Whereas Mimi…well, she looked like serious trouble, but the kind of trouble he could handle. "I'm Jason Masters," he responded, cursing how infantile that sounded.  
  
Mimi smiled slightly. She must be quite insane, she thought wryly. She had just been kidnapped by a self-proclaimed group of bloodthirsty pirates, and she was engaging in small talk with one of her captors and enjoying it. She needed something to restore her to the solemnity of the occasion. Glancing down at the various other men behind Jason though, she realized that there was something different about him. He was intelligent, clean, even kind to a degree. The rest of the men appeared to have more muscles than necessary and not a lot of brain power. Well, except for the masked man. She shuddered involuntarily, suddenly glad to be sitting exactly where she was…  
  
Chloe was now able to see the man who had inspired so many foreign emotions in her in only the last hour. Well, she could see part of him anyway. The upper half of his face and his hair were obscured by a black mask. Only his eyes, a shockingly bright, deep blue showed through; and they taunted her relentlessly. She tried not to focus on the rest of him, tried not to notice the powerful muscles under the white shirt that was open in the front down to his abdomen. He was solid, tan, and earthy. And she hated that. She hated the brimming self-confidence and the mocking stare. She was determined not to cower anymore.  
  
The way he was holding the gun now that they were out of sight of the Dolphin was proof that he wasn't really going to shoot her now. He thought they were safe, and he had no need to. But still, his eyes seemed locked on her face, as if waiting for her to react, waiting for her to release the storm of fury he had seen building in her for so long. And Chloe was only too happy to oblige.  
  
"If I were you, I wouldn't look so smug," she hissed resentfully, her bright azure eyes narrowed to slits. "This is nothing short of treason against the English government. The whole British navy will be looking for you."  
  
"That's what I'm counting on," he returned, unperturbed by her anger. He found it amusing and a little enticing, not that he was going to let her know that. He had to keep a cool head and a firm grip on his emotions. He was going to have enough to deal with these next few weeks dealing with the reemergence of his father and the sister he never knew. He had no intentions of letting his lust for a pretty face interfere with his plans.  
  
Chloe creased her brow in confusion. He wanted the navy to capture them? Why? And why had an obviously English crew of pirates attacked an English ship? These questions and a thousand more swirled within her brain, but the one of utmost importance seemed to be, "Why did you take us? What are you going to do with us?"  
  
The insufferable grin became downright devilish as he looked at her. "Ah, a long and complicated story, m'lady," he drawled, purposely avoiding a direct answer. "What would you like me to do with you?" The husky quality of his voice sent unwanted shivers down her back. Unwanted, because they weren't shudders of revulsion as they should have been, but rather of a pleasurable emotion hitherto unknown to her.  
  
"I would like you to return me to the boat you took me from, along with all of my companions," she said haughtily, refusing to give in to the commanding presence of his eyes. "However, I can see that I cannot count on a pirate such as you to have any sense of honor or decency. If you did, you would never have attacked a peaceful merchant ship and frightened a young girl into hysterics." She looked pointedly at the slowly rousing figure of Belle beside them.  
  
To her surprise, her allusion to Belle seemed to make an impact on the man. His eyes traveled to the still, pale face of the blonde lady. With gentle fingers, he brushed aside a lock of her hair that had fallen into her mouth. Then, as if remembering that his act of tenderness was being observed, he quickly reclaimed his armor of scorn. "A necessary evil, I assure you," he said, returning his attention to Chloe. "But you must take into account when you consider my 'honor and decency' that not a single drop of blood was shed today. I consider that a great accomplishment."  
  
She shot him a withering stare. "Oh, really? Well, maybe King Charles will take this into account and give you a medal before you're hanged. You do realize you will be, don't you? You attacked an English ship today. You forcibly kidnapped a British ambassador and four English ladies. There will be no mercy shown when you are captured. In fact, I'm almost positive you won't even make it back to Execution Dock alive."  
  
His laughter was full and boisterous at her meaningless threats. "My dear lady, you overestimate your importance to His Majesty. You see, I've already won myself a place on Execution Dock. I think that was secured the moment I took the El Diablo. So I have nothing more to fear now, than I did an hour since."  
  
The knot of fear that had been accompanying her all the while suddenly burst inside of Chloe, as the dread words invaded her heart. "The El Diablo?" she questioned, her voice a mere whisper on the breeze. Even in England the rumors of what had been done to that ship and other like it had made their way into dining hall society. "Then you must be…" Her words trailed off, choked by her terror.  
  
He laughed again, harshly this time, when he saw the full weight of her situation sink in. Of course, she would be perfectly safe; but she didn't need to know this. He had a feeling she would be much more manageable if she didn't. "Captain Blackheart at your service, my lady." He took her gentle hand in his and bowed low over it, planting a feather-light kiss on the soft skin that shocked Chloe all the way to her core.  
  
She yanked her hand away. "What do you want with me?" she asked again, this time without a hint of anger and only her overpowering horror.  
  
He frowned, the look in her eyes disquieting him for unknown reasons. He was spending too much time in conversation with the lady. She was beginning to make an impact on him. "That remains to be seen," he said with quiet force. And for the first time in her life, Lady Chloe Wesley knew true fear…and true desire. 


	5. Chapter Five

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Five**

The imposing hulk of the _Vengeance brought up a cheer of triumph from the pirates in the longboat, causing the captives a renewed wave of fear.  Somewhere in the back of all their minds, they had hoped that they'd be rescued before they ever got this far.  Now, they were faced with the true severity of their situation.  So far, none of them had been harmed in any way, but there was no telling what would happen once they were on board the pirate's ship._

To Chloe, the whole situation lost its romanticism the moment she was lifted onto the deck of the ship and saw all around her scarred, disfigured, leering pirates.  She unconsciously clutched the bodice of her dress even closer, as if that would somehow make her less conspicuous.  She was actually relieved when the rest of the captives had been lifted up, just so she could hide among them.

With her astute eyes, Mimi took in every detail of her surroundings.  The ship itself was cleaner, faster, sleeker than the _Dolphin.  Obviously, her captain and crew were very proud of her.  But this held no weight with Mimi, as she studied one hardened face after another.  She could see the revolted expressions on Chloe's and Belle's faces as they shot frequent wary glances at the blemished faces and limbs.  But Mimi hadn't grown up in a beautiful, lily-white, sheltered world as they had, and the wounds had little impact on her.  What frightened her were the eyes devoid of warmth and intelligence and infused with hatred and—at the moment—lust._

She needed to see something to give her hope, and her eyes skimmed across the deck as she unconsciously looked for the one among them who inspired an emotion in her other than fear.  Even as she looked for him, Mimi felt his gaze calling her to him.  And finally, her emerald eyes locked on Jason Masters' face.  He studied her for a moment, his expression reflecting no emotion, even as he seemed to be dissecting every though and feeling flooding through her.  As abruptly as the perusal began, it ended.  Jason turned on his heel and walked away from he towards the masked man she could only assume was captain and the dark-haired, broad-shouldered pirate talking to him.

Mimi watched intently as Jason interrupted their conversation.  The three pirates talked together for several minutes, and Mimi found herself thinking how different they were from the dirty lot that made up most of the crew.  The three all had a look of intelligence, cunning, about them.  Having conversed with Jason and hearing the masked man speak on the ship, she knew they both were educated men.  So what would cause them to choose a life like this?  Her curiosity about Jason Masters was increasing by the moment, and it was both stimulating and terrifying.

Mimi's thoughts were thankfully interrupted by the approach of the three men.  The masked man stood in the middle, with Jason on his right and the other man on his left.  Mimi felt a rush of heat as Jason immediately sought out her eyes and smiled seductively at her.  This was _not happening to her.  Not now.  And especially, not with him.  _

With a quick jerk of the head, Brady waved off the pirates who had been acting as guards in case any of the captives tried to jump overboard.  There seemed little chance of that however.  Lord John was bound hands and feet, and the girls looked too frightened to do anything even if the idea had crossed their minds.  None of them had said a word since they'd been lifted on deck.  Philip's lady had seemed to lose much of her fire, since the gravity of the situation had settled in on her; but as his eyes continued to mock and challenge her, he was at last rewarded with a flush of fury in her cheeks and a haughty lift of her chin.  

Brady's eyes traveled over the small group, finally settling back on his father.  Even tied as he was, Lord John Black had managed to position himself in front of the ladies, and the dark eyes glared defiance at any who might be foolish enough to touch them.  Brady impulsively bowed deeply before the wizened statesman.  Surprisingly, Chloe thought as she watched, there didn't appear to be anything mocking about it.

Straightening and regaining his cocky manner, Brady smiled charmingly at the prisoners.  "Lord Black, ladies, welcome to the _Vengeance," he greeted them amiably, laughing to himself at the wave of terror as all but the captivating brunette learned for the first time who their captors really were.  "As you may have guessed, I am Captain Blackheart, or this is what you are to call me, at any rate.  May I introduce to you my first and second mates, Jase Masters and Kev Lambert."  He gestured slightly in the appropriate directions._

Jason rolled his eyes, seeing Brady give in once again to his flair for the dramatics.  He and his friend differed in innumerable ways, and this was one of the most obvious.  Brady loved to make a grand scene, whereas Jase liked to keep things simple and quick.  There was less chance something would go wrong that way.  He frowned as he studied Brady in the mask.  Brady had insisted that he had to wear it, so that his alias would not be known once they brought the captives back to shore.  But Jason kept thinking there was more to it than that.  Brady wasn't telling him something, and that upset him no end.  If there was one thing Jason hated, it was not being aware of all the forces moving around him.  It made him vulnerable, and Jase Masters was never vulnerable.

"Are we expected to say 'Nice to meet you'?" John spat out, easily asserting himself as the girls' protector.  He had failed them already.  They shouldn't even be here.  Their virtue was already irredeemably compromised, and so far, no one had laid a hand on them.  And he'd die before anyone did.  His eyes met the challenge in the cool blue eyes.  There was something familiar about those eyes, like he had seen eyes like that before.  He shoved the thought aside.  What mattered now was protecting his daughter and the other girls in his care.

Brady chuckled, already finding something admirable in his father.  He didn't understand what had happened, why his mother had thought John Black had drowned; but he was determined to find out.  And only then would he consider revealing his true identity to the man who was responsible for his very existence.  "I think that would be overreaching given the circumstances, your lordship.  I merely wish to acquaint you all with the reason for your detention here.  No doubt you're wondering what this is all about."

Chloe found herself continuing to study the pirate captain.  There was something about him that just didn't fit in amongst these other common criminals.  Maybe it was his poise, the way he spoke, the way he carried himself.  He was born to more than this.  He was brought up to more than this.  So why was he here?  And why did she care so much?  This man had just abducted her!  She should be conceiving a plan to push him overboard, instead of trying to decipher the mysteries of his past.

"I'm not as naïve as you might think, Captain," Lord John returned, a definite sarcastic emphasis on the title.  "I'm aware that there must be something you want, something you think I can get for you.  And I must admit it was a stroke of genius to take my daughter as well.  You knew that I would die before I let anyone make any deals for the sake of my life.  Now, I have to consider the well-being of my charges as well.  So what is it you want?  Money?  A pardon for your atrocities?"

Brady shook his head, his eyes flinty with irritation at the viscount's haughty tone.  "As appealing as I'm sure you think that must be to common criminals like us, we want nothing from you.  While I'm sure you'll dismiss everything I'm about to tell you, the truth of the situation was this.  Word reached my ears that the King of Spain would consider it a personal affront if your lordship reached Jamaica alive.  I've made it a mission of mine to deny His Royal Majesty anything he desires, so here you all are.  Safe and sound and sure to remain so until I've seen you entrusted into the custody of someone I trust to bring you to your destination alive and well."

Lady Belle Black stared incredulously at the intimidating man in front of her.  If she had followed the complicated statement correctly, he was saying that they had taken them hostage to save them from a Spanish attack.  But that made no sense at all.  What reason would the King of Spain have to want her father dead?  He was simply accompanying her and Chloe to be married.  Wasn't he?  She didn't know what to think.  Why should she take the word of a bloodthirsty pirate who had made her faint with fear only hours before?  And yet, something about him made her want to trust him.  

Lord John tried to read the expression in the blue eyes, so startling in the black mask.  What exactly did this man know?  Whatever it was, he didn't want to discuss it in front of Belle and the others.  They knew nothing of his mission, and he intended to keep it that way.  He glanced sidelong at his daughter, to see what she was thinking at the moment.  Judging by the curious, discerning look on her face as she stared at him, she was trying to piece it together already.  John looked back at Captain Blackheart, pleading silently for him not to say any more in front of them.  

Brady's mouth tipped as he correctly read the warning on John's face.  As divided as his feelings were about his father, he shared no such compunctions about his sister.  She was an innocent, being thrust into a world she couldn't possibly understand.  He was already responsible for putting her in a precarious situation.  He wouldn't put her in even more risk by a knowledge she was unprepared for.  He nodded imperceptibly in John's direction.  

"Captain, I think this is a situation we could discuss without the presence of the ladies," John returned coolly, somewhat confident that he wouldn't be challenged.  "What I find to be of more pressing concern is what will befall these women on this ship.  You say that we will be returned to Jamaica untouched.  I assume the same holds true…forgive me for speaking bluntly…the same holds true for the virtue of my daughter and all the rest?"  His eyes swept over the disreputable looking pirates who had returned to their duties, before coming back to rest on the more gentlemanly sailors in front of him.  They might prove more dangerous than the ugliest among them.

Belle turned a shockingly bright pink at her father's words.  She had never in her entire life heard anyone—let alone her own father—speak so openly of such things.  She barely had an understanding of what the term "virtue" implied.  She was a true Victorian lady, and possessed all the blessed ignorance that the term implied.  But she had enough common sense to be wary of all the swarthy men around her.  She wished with all her soul that Shawn were here to protect her.

Jan rolled her eyes.  He called that blunt?  And the horrified looks on Chloe and Belle's faces nearly made her laugh aloud.  Honestly, they were mere children.  It actually might be a bit amusing to see their reactions if one of these filthy pirates did make an advance on them.  Poor dears.  If they ever did lose their "virtue" in such a way, they'd feel compelled to throw themselves into the sea, in order to preserve their honor or some such ridiculous concept.  As for Jan…well, she could take care of herself.

Brady smiled lazily at Lord John's fatherly concern.  He found it amusing, given the precarious situation they were already in.  But he respected the man more for it.  Of course, the thought had already been dealt with appropriately by Brady and Jason before they ever set foot on the _Dolphin.  The whole crew knew that if they so much as touched any of the women, they would be killed by Captain Blackheart's own hand.  No one doubted he meant it either.  _

"You have my word, your lordship," he promised smoothly.  "Their virtue will be regarded as sacred by my men.  The ladies will be staying in the cabins, while Jason and I bunk with the rest of the men.  The contact between them and the crew will be minimal, and purely innocent.  I pledge myself for their honor."  His eyes flickered suddenly to land on the fiery dark haired beauty.  She flushed immediately, and he couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment, anger, or passion.  Maybe a bit of all three.  

For the first time, Brady began to wonder if the threat to them wasn't truly from the crew.  The way Jason's eyes stayed glued to that pretty, petite little maid was an obvious clue to his growing preoccupation with her.  Brady had seen that Jason's gaze hadn't wandered from her in the whole of the confrontation.  And the girl continued to turn her bright green eyes his friend's way as well.  He tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that the girl was only a maid.  No international incident would be started over the fate of some common servant.

And yet again, his eyes made their way to the goddess in blue.  Now, she was most definitely off-limits.  A lady, under the protection of Lord John Black, engaged to marry Philip Kiriakis.  No, it was completely out of the question.  Yet the heat in her sapphire eyes as she met his gaze unflinchingly was enough to make him realize that the sooner Shawn caught up with them, the better it would be.  For all their sakes.

John studied the pirate under raised eyebrows for several minutes, before nodding.  He didn't know if the word of this man was worth anything, but it was all he had to rely on.  "All right, Captain.  So what happens now?"  He looked over at his little girl, his most priceless treasure in the world.   She didn't look well at all, and he wanted her safely off this deck as soon as possible.  

Brady followed the look to gaze upon his sister.  The ethereal beauty was melting in the heat, beads of sweat rolling down the cheeks turning red with sunburn.  He tried to keep the emotions of love and pity and protectiveness from showing on his face.  Instead, he turned to his first mate.  "Jase, please escort the ladies to their cabins.  Kev and I will take his lordship to his new quarters."

At his words, Belle darted forward, impulsively wrapping her arms around her father's neck.  "Please don't take Father away, sir.  Let me stay with him."  She couldn't lose her father.  He was her only protector, her only place of safety.  If he was gone, then she would be at the mercy of all these bloodthirsty pirates.  She didn't even want to contemplate the possibilities.

John flinched under his daughter's hysterical reaction.  He couldn't even hold her in return to comfort her with his hands and feet tied the way they were.  "It's all right, my Izzy," he whispered so only she could hear.  "Nothing will happen to you.  I swear it.  Let me handle this.  Just go with the gentleman.  Mimi will look out for you."  He gave a silent prayer of thanks for Belle's dependable maid.  She would manage to see his daughter through this, would gladly give her life to protect her mistress.

As if on cue, Mimi stepped up to gently pry her friend off her father's shoulder.  Belle gave a wail and turned into the maid's arms, still sobbing in fear and frustration.  Poor Belle.  She still wasn't fully recovered from the seasickness, and then this added on top of it.  Mimi honestly thought that if they had a chance to get only one of them away from here, she'd gladly send Belle off to safety.  She was the least prepared for such a thing.

Swallowing back any hint of emotion, Brady stepped forward with Kevin and pulled Lord Black away to lead him down to the only place on the boat where Brady felt there was a modicum of safety for him.  Jason then stepped up to bridge the gap Brady had left.  Mimi's accusing gaze pierced him, as she continued to comfort the weaker lady.  He wished he could make her understand that they were only trying to insure their protection.  He cleared his throat uncomfortably.  "Ladies, if you please…"  He bowed them in the appropriate direction.  

With no other options open to them, Chloe, Jan, Mimi, and Belle followed along towards the cabins they'd been promised.  It was a grim, silent procession, only disrupted by an occasional sniffle from Belle.  Jason stopped in front of the captain's cabin and ushered them in.  "Lady Black and Lady…"  He stopped, suddenly aware, that with the exception of Mimi Lockhart, he knew none of their names.  "You know, conversation would be much easier if I knew your names.  Would you mind introducing yourselves?"

When none of the others seemed willing to speak, Mimi sighed.  If she had to choose one person on this boat she could trust, he would be the one.  "My mistress is Lady Isabella Black," she said, as Belle continued to lean almost completely on her.  She gestured to the tall, exotic brunette.  "This is Lady Chloe Wesley and her maid, Jan Spears."  She threw Jan a dark look.  Nothing would make her bond with that girl, not even captivity.

Jason nodded his head towards each of them, filing away all the undercurrents among them for future reference.  Mimi, Lady Black, and Lady Wesley seemed to have a sort of understanding, friendship, between them, that the other maid had no part of.  Nor did she seem to want to.  As far as he had seen, that woman was determined to hate the world.  "It's a pleasure, ladies, though I'm sure we all wish it was under different circumstances."

Mimi smiled weakly at him, while all the rest kept their dazed, weary looks.  Deciding that this wasn't the moment to focus on the beauty of Mimi's smile, Jason continued, "Lady Black, Lady Wesley, this is your cabin.  Mistress Lockhart, Mistress Spears, you'll be sharing my cabin, which I'll show you to momentarily.  First, I wanted to give you some words of warning.  The crew has strict orders not to touch you or harass you in anyway.  Nevertheless, it would be to your added safety to stay in the two cabins.  You should also lock the cabin doors from the inside, and only open them to myself, the captain, or Kevin."

"You mean we're going to be stuck in these cabins day and night for who knows how long?" Chloe complained, speaking for the first time since they'd been brought onto the ship.  The idea of confinement was to her possibly the worst thing she'd heard today.  To not be able to see the sky and the sea she'd fallen so in love with seemed inhuman.

Jason's mouth tipped as he took in the arrogant beauty.  He'd seen that she'd already grabbed Brady's attention, and there was no denying she was exquisite.  But there was something about her that he found off-putting.  Most likely her haughty manner.  But then, Brady had always liked a challenge.  "The decision wasn't mine, my lady.  If you wish for greater freedom, I'd suggest taking it up with the captain."  He watched as a becoming blush rose in her cheeks, and she turned away.  Obviously, Brady wasn't the only one intrigued.

"Now, ladies, I'll leave you to get settled.  Mistress Lockhart, Mistress Spears, would you come with me please?"  It was only with the greatest reluctance that Belle let go of her maid and then only with the assurance that Mimi would be back as soon as she could.  Mimi and Jan followed Jason the short distance to the first mate's cabin, which was considerably smaller than the captain's cabin.  Mimi grimaced, thinking of how hideous it would be to be stuck with Jan in that little room for any length of time.

Jan simply sniffed in disapproval and entered the room to slump dejectedly into the sole chair in the cabin.  Mimi hesitated a moment at the door, biting her lip as she considered the man in front of her.  Jason raised an eyebrow and smirked down at her, wondering what was causing her such indecision.  "Is there something I can do for you, Mistress Lockhart?"

"Mimi," Mimi returned absently.  "Call me Mimi.  Everyone does.  And call her Jan, just because she doesn't deserve any respect."  An impish smile passed over her features before being replaced by the solemn expression of one who fully realized the complexities and horrors of this situation.  "I want to thank you, Jason.  You've treated us with a respect I didn't expect from anyone here."

Jason knew there was something more she wanted to say, so he simply nodded silently, waiting for her to continue.  Mimi took a deep breath, before voicing all the questions swirling in her brain.  "What exactly is going to happen to us now, can you tell me?  Why were we brought here?  How long do we have to stay here?  I'm sorry, but I don't understand any of this.  So far, except for the whole abduction thing, you've all behaved like we're passengers, not prisoners.  I don't understand what's going on.  What do you want from us?"

Jason sighed.  She was too intelligent and inquisitive to be satisfied with half answers.  Unfortunately, that was all he had to give her.  He didn't even know all the reasons that had made Brady decide to take the _Dolphin.  "All I can say to you is that you're safe here.  I promise you, on my life, that I won't let anything happen to you."  There was a touch of steel to his tone that comforted Mimi.  It seemed that she at least had found a protector._

~~*~~

John wasn't unduly surprised when they brought him down to a makeshift brig in the ship's hull.  He had expected it from the beginning.  Whatever the captain might have said, the truth was that he and the girls were going to be used as some form of ransom.  He said not a word as they unbound him and locked him in a cell.  He only stood in silent dignity as he and the captain sized each other up.  

"Leave us," Brady finally ordered Kevin.  "But wait outside."  Kevin nodded once and immediately obeyed his captain.  Again, the silent duel of intimidation began.  Smirking, Brady retreated to the chair across from the cell and leaned indolently back in it.  "So, your lordship, you no doubt believe as you said earlier that you're being held here as a hostage.  And once again, I inform you that your assumption is completely false."

John raised an incredulous eyebrow, crossing his arms as he stared at the disdainful youth.  For that's what he was.  Barely a man, and yet aged by a hard life, a life he had no doubt chosen for himself.  "Of course," he returned caustically.  "I forgot.  You're protecting me, was it?  From the King of Spain."  Everything about him spoke his disbelief.

"That is correct, your lordship," Brady countered, unruffled.  "You see, your secret mission to arouse interest in attacking the Spanish Main wasn't so secret after all.  It even made its way into the court of Madrid.  Sad to say, but King Phillip was not pleased.  In truth, he issued an order that you weren't to reach Jamaica alive.  Luckily for you, I found this out before the order could be carried into effect.  So here you are.  Safe under guard until you can complete the mission you came here to accomplish."

John eyed the young man warily.  Whoever he was, he had excellent sources.  And he couldn't help believing him.  His facts were too good.  But that still left so much unaccounted for.  "You admit to being the infamous Captain Blackheart.  It's well known that you have no regard for the sanctity of human life.  Even in England, we've heard of your dastardly deeds.  Why interfere to spare me?"

"Let's just say I have a vested interest.  And you're wrong, by the way, when you say I don't have regard for human life.  Just not Spanish life.  You wouldn't either if you'd seen the things I have and knew the things I know."  His mouth tipped as he considered the upcoming events.  "But you'll learn, your lordship."

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked suspiciously.  What did this arrogant son of a bitch think he had to teach him about?  He had triple the life experience of the kid in front of him.  "I thought we were being taken to the authorities at Port Royal.  That is what you said, isn't it?"

Brady grimaced, as the only down side to the plan was brought again to his attention.  He had to hope that when everything was explained to him, Shawn would be forgiving.  Otherwise, this one noble action of his life was going to accomplish what none of his crimes had.  It was going to hang him.  "No doubt you will be, my lord.  But you'll understand when I say that I can't exactly sail the _Vengeance into the harbor."_

John's eyes widened under the bushy black brows as realization settled in on him.  "You plan on getting caught," he breathed incredulously. What game was this daredevil playing?  How could he still look so confident when faced with certain death?

Brady smirked arrogantly.  "I plan on getting you and the ladies safely to Jamaica.  Believe me, no one plans on getting caught.  It's just something that must be faced."  There was something so fatalistic in his tone that it drew John's attention.  There was so much about this man that didn't sit right with him, so much he wanted to learn; but he had the distinct feeling that questions wouldn't get him anywhere.  Not yet, at any rate.  As if on cue, Brady added, "But enough of that.  Your lordship and the ladies in your care will be protected, however, I'll feel safer with you here, where you can be under constant guard.  A simple precaution in case there is a traitor on board my ship, which in my opinion, is not even a possibility, but Jase feels it's necessary to consider.  So either myself, or one of my mates will be with you every moment of the day.  And with any luck, you'll be back in King Charles' court in a matter of months, telling him how to eradicate the Spanish menace on the Main."

His curiosity growing by the instant, John continued to watch the pirate captain.  "Your single-minded hatred is something to see, captain.  Tell me, is that the only reason you saved myself, my daughter, and the others?  Or can it be there is some spark of heroism in you after all?"

Brady smiled wryly.  "I wouldn't count too much on my heroism, my lord.  I'm a pirate, a criminal, fit for nothing more than to hang at Execution Dock.  I kill because it satiates me, because—as the name of my ship tells—I'm out for revenge.  I saved you, and by extension those women, because it furthers my aims.  I want to see the Spanish presence gone from the Caribbean, and if possible, from the entire world."

John felt his bitterness as if it was his own.  "I take it this is a personal vendetta of yours.  I can tell you're an educated man, an intelligent man, so what would make you resort to the life of a criminal?  What do you seek vengeance for?"

Brady hid all the emotions rioting under the surface.  He had to believe that his father knew nothing of what happened.  He had to believe that Lord Black was completely ignorant of all that had come upon him and his mother.  He had to believe that, but he wasn't sure he did.  And until he was, he would keep his silence.  "I have my own reasons, as does any member of this crew.  Listen to them.  Talk to them.  They'll tell you.  All about what has been done to them in the name of King Phillip and Spanish rule.  In England, the Inquisition might be a topic for debate over high tea; but here, it's the reality of life."

John released a deep breath and ran his hand back through his hair.  He knew that of course.  He had heard the horror stories.  He had just never stopped to think of all the victims still left alive and willing to fight back.  Victims whose scars were all on the inside, like this man before him.  "I'll listen to anything you and your men have to tell me," he promised.  "As long as you keep your end of the bargain.  My daughter and the rest, they must reach Port Royal.  Alive and untouched."

Crystal blue eyes drilled into the distinguished lord as Brady sat in silence for a full minute.  Finally, he spoke, his voice low and determined.  "You have my word of honor."  John nodded, hoping to heaven that the word of honor of a pirate was worth more than he thought it was.


	6. Chapter Six

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Six**

"It will all turn out right, Belle," Chloe soothed her still weeping friend.  It seemed nothing would make Lady Black stop crying, and Chloe was quickly running out of words of comfort.  The truth was she hadn't the slightest idea what to expect.  Their whole lives had been turned upside down in one day.  For Belle, it was calamitous and crushing; for Chloe, merely exciting.  But she hardly thought Belle needed to hear that.  

"You don't know that," Belle protested, as she lay prostrate on the captain's bed.  She was exhausted and sick and horrified by all that had happened to them.  She would give anything for the security of Shawn's arms at the moment, but he was God only knew how far away and had no idea that she was in danger.  He wouldn't have until the _Dolphin reached Port Royal, and there was no telling how long that would be.  And her father, her only protector, was somewhere in the bowels of the ship, being held a prisoner himself.  "We've been abducted by pirates, Chloe!  They will probably kill us, at the very least!  What if…what if they…?"_

Chloe was almost glad that Belle's face was buried in the pillow.  She couldn't see the heat the flooded into Chloe's cheeks at her extremely veiled reference.  Somehow, she didn't think Belle even knew what the 'what if' she spoke of implied.  Chloe herself barely had the vaguest notion, due to a strange, surreal conversation she'd had with her mother the day before they set sail.  But Belle, as a properly brought up English lady of stature, knew that death was infinitely preferable to this unknown danger.  Chloe wished she could say that her feelings on the subject were as pure.  She had only to think of the dangerous Captain Blackheart to know that deep inside she was not the frigid, controlled ice queen she appeared to be.  

Knowing that Belle wouldn't even begin to understand the emotions pulsating through her, Chloe quickly pulled her thoughts away from the masked man and focused them entirely on her terrified friend.  With an older sister's care, she stroked back Belle's blonde hair, falling free from her chignon.  "Nothing's going to happen to us, Belle.  The captain promised your father that no one would touch us, remember?  Any man would have to be crazy to go up against Lord Black, especially where you're concerned."

Belle finally pushed herself up with her hands, revealing a pale, though tear-stained face and red-rimmed eyes.  Viciously wiping the last vestiges of her tears away, she took her best friend's hand in hers.  "I'm sorry, Chloe.  I know you must be as scared as I am.  It's not like you know anymore about what's going to happen to us than I do.  But you're acting so strong.  How do you do that?  I envy your strength."  All her life it seemed Belle had been the frail, timid one.  She melted in the sun; she took chill in the winter; she grew faint at the slightest terror.  

Chloe's mouth tipped in wry amusement.  "Brave?  I'm not brave, Belle.  If I were brave, I never would have…"   She stopped mid-sentence, not wanting Belle to know about the true state of her engagement to Philip Kiriakis.  It wasn't brave to marry someone you loathed simply for money.  In fact, it was the most cowardly thing she could think of.  But she wouldn't tell Belle any of this.  Partly out of a desire to spare her friend from confronting yet another of the cold realities of life, partly out of not wanting to waver in her friend's esteem, she couldn't bring herself to tell Belle how very little she cared for Philip.

"Chloe?"  Belle prompted, searching the distant look in her friend's sapphire eyes.  "Is everything all right?"  She wished Chloe would confide in her more.  Over the past year it seemed that they'd been growing further and further apart.  They still spent as much time as ever together, maybe even more so.  But the intimacy that had once existed between them was gone.  Theirs was a surface friendship only.  "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Chloe shook her head, waving her hand dismissively.  "It's nothing, Belle.  I think it's simply the strain of the day catching up to me.  We really should retire for the evening."  She yawned prettily for emphasis.  "Perhaps everything will seem a little less bleak in the morning."

Belle knew that Chloe was hiding something from her, but she didn't have the energy to pursue the matter at the moment.  The day's events had been severely detrimental to her already fragile state of health.  She was exhausted, in more ways than one.  She obediently nodded and followed Chloe's lead in preparing for bed.  It was strange trying to undress by herself, without Mimi's help; but she lacked sufficient courage to walk even the short distance to the other cabin and request Mimi's assistance.  Other women preformed such requisite tasks for themselves every day of their lives.  Surely, she could learn.

Chloe and Belle helped each other shed the heavy material of their dresses, unbuttoning the long rows of small buttons.  Belle groaned as she stepped out of her silk dress and lifted it up, seeing how much damage had been inflicted in this one day.  No longer did it glow with angelic whiteness.  Like the owner of the dress herself, the purity had been irredeemably harmed by the filth of the pirates.  The dirt and oil smudges would never come out.  

Belle suddenly laughed, in a hysterical, self-deprecating way. It was foolish to obsess over something as unimportant as a dress.  But she felt if she thought any longer about the problems they were facing, she would go stark raving mad.  She shed her petticoat, and then Chloe released her friend's stays.  Belle breathed her first deep breath since that morning, as the pressure on her ribs was finally removed.  Belle was clad only in her light chemise and felt infinitely cooler and by extension, better, than she had since the daily ritual of putting on all the layers of clothing required to be a proper English lady.  

Belle had barely been able to mumble a "Good night" to Chloe, before her head hit the pillow, and she gave in to her fatigue.  It wasn't long before the deep, even sounds of Belle's breathing filled the cabin.  Chloe was not so lucky.  She lay beside her friend in bed, feeling the gentle motion of the ship's rocking and trying to quiet the hundreds of thoughts flowing through her mind every second.  

The lady wished she could put a name to the things she was feeling, but it was hard enough trying to separate her emotions, let alone diagnose them.  Chloe knew that she should be reacting the same way Belle was, with horror, shock, and fear.  That was the way they had both been brought up.  They were to be only the fairer sex, emotional and completely dependent on men for their very survival.  Stripped away from the security of all they knew, it was proper that they be hysterical and afraid.  But Chloe wasn't afraid.  At least, not of the things she should have been.  Not like Belle, afraid of death and other fates at the hands of these men.  

She had heard the pirate's promise to Lord Black that they would reach their destination unharmed; and for some strange reason, she believed him.  Captain Blackheart was well known as the most blood thirsty pirate on the Caribbean, and yet she had faith that he would honor his word.  No, it wasn't fear of death or injury that kept Lady Chloe Wesley sleepless that night.  It was apprehension of the immediate effect that captain had had on her.  It wasn't right to feel the things he made her feel every time he touched her or even looked at her.  She didn't even know the word for what that emotion was, but it was like pure fire running through her veins.  And she knew that it was nothing a proper lady should ever feel in her lifetime.  Belle certainly never would, even for Shawn, who she loved with all her soul.  But this wasn't love.  This was something base and vile, sinful.  And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't rid herself of that heat.  

Sudden light invaded the cabin, and Chloe turned to see that the moon had come out from behind a cloud and was streaming its ethereal rays in through the small porthole.  Something about its unearthly light called to Chloe's soul.  She wanted to feel bathed in that glow, with the smell of the sea in her nostrils and the wind blowing through her hair.  There was something wild at work inside of her tonight, and she couldn't stay still any longer.

Silently, so as not to wake Belle, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed to the place where her dress was hanging.  Too impatient to bother with all the layers of clothing, and unable to tie her own corset in any case, Chloe put on only the dress over the chemise.  It was remarkable how wonderful the silk felt against her skin.  She slipped into her satin slippers, so unsuited to walking on a ship's deck.  With one last glance at her dreaming friend, Chloe unlocked the door and made her way to the deck of the _Vengeance to fill her lungs with the sea air._

~~*~~

Mimi couldn't help but wonder what heinous crime she had committed that she was paying penance for.  Occupying one small room with Jan Spears was a foreshadowing of what hell must be like, and it was only their first night.  As Mimi sat silently listening to Jan fume against the failure of Lord Black to protect them, she found herself constantly surveying the room for any sharp object within reach.  Not by nature a violent person, Mimi was more than willing to make an exception in Jan's case.  

"Those men simply stood by and let us be carried off like this!" Jan continued to rail.  "Not one of them tried to stop it, not even John.  He simply stood there like the moronic buffoon he is and allowed these filthy pirates to tie him up and abduct us all."

Mimi had finally had enough.  Perhaps if this had simply been a momentary outburst, she could have overlooked it; but Jan had been going on like this for hours.  The last straw was when she showed Lord Black such little respect.  What right had she, or any servant, to speak so disreputably of their employer?  "What else was he supposed to do?  In case you failed to notice, that pirate captain had a gun to Lady Wesley's throat.  Was he supposed to simply let her be murdered?"

"Yes!" Jan hissed, her dark eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.  In that one moment, Mimi knew that Jan's disrespect of Chloe was pure, unadulterated hatred.  "If it meant giving the rest of us a chance to still be free, by all means, yes!  As it is now, we're all going to die."

"No, we're not," Mimi returned forcefully, standing and approaching the other girl with menacing steps.  "And if I hear you say one word like that in front of Lady Isabelle or Lady Chloe, I will personally make sure that you're the only one of us who doesn't live to see the shores of Jamaica.  Do you understand me?"

Jan rolled her eyes and tossed her black curls defiantly.  Mimi Lockhart had no clue who she was dealing with.  She glowered at the common maid who seemed determined to interfere in something that was none of her business.  "I understand that it's better if the two of us avoid each other from now on.  So stay the hell out of my business, Lockhart, and I'll make sure to stay clear of you.  Oh, and word to the wise, I wouldn't threaten me again, sweetheart.  Because I don't warn people when I'm coming.  I'm just there."  Jan spoke slowly, every word laced with poison.

Mimi couldn't help laughing at Jan's cryptic statement.  "What exactly is that supposed to mean?  If you think I'm scared of you, you have got a lot to learn."  She sized up Jan Spears with one swift glance and her expression showed her derision.  "There's nothing about you I can't handle."

Jan's mouth turned up in a cold smirk.  "We'll see about that, won't we?"  Turning on her heel, she marched to the doorway.  "I'm going out for some air."

"We're not supposed to leave the cabins," Mimi warned, though without much force.  Nothing seemed quite as wonderful as a few minutes devoid of Jan's irksome presence.  Maybe she'd even get lucky, and Jan would take a dive right over the ship's rail.  

Jan shrugged carelessly as she turned the bolt and opened the door.  "I never was much good at following the rules."  That said, she slipped out into the ship's passageway and disappeared.

Mimi shut and locked the door behind her, a grin automatically appearing on her face.  She was free of the witch, if only for a few moments.  Finally feeling at ease, she took a moment to examine the room.  Jason's room.  The mere thought caused a blush to rise in her cheeks.  She was going to be living in Jason's room, sleeping in his bed…She shut down that line of thought immediately.  Thoughts like those only got a girl like her into trouble.  How many times had she seen one of the girls she had grown up with throw their lives away on a blackguard who quickly grew bored and moved on?  Only too often.  She was not about to let that happen to her.

She considered going to check on Belle, but Mimi knew that Chloe would have come for her if Belle needed her.  Most likely, the poor dear was already fast asleep.  Mimi frowned, realizing that Belle might have trouble surviving an experience like this.  She was still weak from her long bout with seasickness.  Now, she had the added problem of terror and stress.  Mimi and Jan would be able to deal with this.  They were women of the world and knew how to take care of themselves; and Chloe, though lacking in experience, had a strong constitution and a will of iron.  But Belle was like a porcelain doll.  She needed to be protected from the elements, lest she shatter and break.  

A rapping on the door caused Mimi to jump.  Even knowing the door was locked wasn't much comfort considering the group of cutthroats on this ship.  "Who is it?" she demanded, thanking God that her voice didn't shake.  

"It's Jase," came the welcome reply in the already familiar voice.  Without another worry for her safety, Mimi quickly unlocked the door to let him in.  She might not want to encourage any romantic feelings towards him, but he was still her greatest security on board.  Opening the door wide to let him in, she was greeted by the arrogant smirk she acknowledged as distinctively his.  He presented a tray to her with exaggerated flourish.  "Miss Lockhart, your dinner is served."

Mimi hadn't realized until that moment how hungry she was.  They hadn't eaten since breakfast that morning, but the circumstances of the day had clouded all thought of food from her mind.  Suddenly faced with a heaping tray of bread, cheese, and tropical fruits was a wake up call for her stomach.  "Oh, thank you," she breathed out gratefully, taking the tray from him and setting in on the small table in one corner of the room.

"I knocked on the other door first, but the lamp was out and no one answered, so I assume they're asleep," Jason informed her.  He frowned as he noticed Mimi's solitary state.  "Where's Jan?"

Mimi let out an exasperated breath, as she sat down on the sole chair in the room.  "Who knows?  She said she needed air.  Maybe if God is good, she'll find herself swimming with the sharks before the night is out."  Immediately apprehending how that must have sounded to a virtual stranger, she covered her mouth a red glow rising to her cheeks.  "I'm sorry.  You must think I'm horrible."

Jason grinned, as he shut the door and leaned indolently against the doorframe, arms crossed, stance deliberately casual.  "Not at all, Mimi.  I'm simply wondering what it is about this girl that makes you hate her so.  Who exactly is she?"  

Mimi's eyes took in the plate of food hungrily.  Her appetite was stronger than her manners.  "Would you mind if we eat while we talk?  I'm starving!"  

"Of course.  That's what it's here for," Jason agreed immediately.  He couldn't believe it had taken him this long to think of their hunger.  No doubt Lady Black and Lady Wesley would be ravenous by the time they awoke.  But he couldn't deny that he felt some satisfaction in getting this time alone with the pretty little maid.  Something about her intrigued him and made him want to know more of her.  

They ate together without speech for several minutes, Mimi trying to fill the suddenly fierce emptiness of her belly.  And no meal had ever tasted better.  The simple bread and cheese were nothing compared to the juicy fruits, most of which had names she'd never heard of, like papaya, guava, and coconut.  They were so delicious and succulent, she felt she'd died and gone to heaven.  Jason noticed her delight with the native fruits and lost no time in informing her about all the tastes the West Indies had to offer.

Mimi listened quietly, becoming more taken with the man by the moment, though she didn't realize it.  The deep, rich sound of his voice was intoxicating; and she was amazed by how intelligent and educated he seemed.  How could a common pirate be so refined, polite, and knowledgeable?  She found her head racing with dozens of questions, and few of them had anything to do with the flora and fauna of the Caribbean.  She wanted to know more about him.  She wanted to know _everything about him.  _

But just as she was working up the courage to ask, his small talk suddenly ceased, and he returned to the question he had first asked, the question she had almost forgotten.  "So, Mimi, tell me now, why do you despise Jan Spears so much?"

Sighing, Mimi realized she'd missed her opportunity, a chance that might not come again.  "It's hard to explain.  I've been Lady Black's attendant for several years, ever since she went away to finishing school.  My lady and Lady Wesley have been the closest of friends for that long, so I've had plenty of time to observe and get to know them.  I…well, it may sound strange given the difference in our status, but I consider myself their friend.  I care about them, and try to look out for them, like an older sister would."

Jason nodded encouragement.  He had picked up on that much from the short time he'd had to observe the group earlier that day.  It only confirmed for him that Mimi Lockhart was a wise woman with a loving heart.  "Go on."

"Well, Jan hasn't been Lady Chloe's maid for very long, and she doesn't even truly work for her.  Lady Wesley's fiancé Philip Kiriakis hired Jan to accompany her on the journey.  But something's been off from the very first day.  She doesn't carry herself like a servant, doesn't behave like she owes any loyalty towards Lady Chloe at all.  She keeps to herself, except when I've found her lurking around, spying on her mistress.  It's not right.  My personal feeling is that she was employed my Mr. Kiriakis to keep track of his betrothed's movements and report them."

"That's good to know."  Jason's face reflected his disgust with such an arrangement.  Of course, judging by what he knew of Philip, the idea seemed not only logical but probable.  In addition to being arrogant and selfish, Philip had a sort of insecurity about him that would feel the need to have complete control over all belonging to him, including his woman.  Not all the money in the world could make Philip the gentleman he pretended to be.  

"Why?"  Mimi asked, confused.  "Why should any of it matter to you?"  She was suddenly aware that she had spoken out of turn and shared information with this pirate which ought perhaps to be kept quiet.  

"It doesn't.  But it might have been important.  I like to know all about the people I'm dealing with.  Gives me an advantage, you see.  I detected from the beginning the tension between Jan and the rest of you, and I needed to know the cause of it.  If there had been more to it than that, if she had perhaps been a more formidable enemy, what you told me would have been of immense importance.  Now, I know that she's nothing but a common sneak, a threat to no one, except perhaps Lady Wesley."

Mimi frowned, trying to decipher the enigma that was Jason Masters.  "Well, who did you think she might be?  You must have thought she was someone dangerous, or you never would have asked me about her."

Jason ignored her question, instead picking up another slice of fruit and popping it into his mouth.  "I told you, I like to know who I'm surrounded by.  Now that I know who Jan Spears is, I can forget about her."  His eyes locked on the bewildered frown hovering around her full lips.  Jan was easily forgotten when faced with Mimi Lockhart.  "So, why don't you tell me about you now?"

There was a quiet, husky note to his voice which sent shivers down Mimi's spine.  She was only too aware of the intensity of his gaze upon her face and quickly averted it, following his example and picking up another piece of fruit.  "There's little to tell," she demurred, hoping her voice remained cool and even.  "I was born in an English harbor town, raised there for several years, until I was considered old enough to work, and then found employ in the household of Lord Black.  I was very fortunate in that he made sure I received a good education as well as a comfortable home.  He wanted Belle to have someone who could be both servant and companion, so we grew up together."  Before he could ask any more questions, Mimi decided to turn it around on him.  "What about you, Jason?  You know all about Jan, all about me; but I know nothing about you."

She could see him shut down immediately.  His jaw clenched, the green eyes turned distant and hard; and he abruptly stood up rigidly straight.  "You know all you need to know, Miss Lockhart.  I'm a common pirate.  A murderer, who's destined to swing on Execution Dock, assuming the Spanish don't kill me first."

There was something about the way he tensed that let Mimi know she was right to think there was more to him than the surface appearance.  She stood and backed away from the table, coming closer to the self-admitted murderer, yet feeling no fear.  She paused a scant four feet from him, staring up at him with pity-filled eyes.  "You're lying.  You may be a pirate, a murderer, and God knows what else.  But you're not common.  I've seen those other men.  Most of them are uneducated, filthy, disgusting vermin.  Born in misery and raised in it.  You're different.  You're educated and intelligent, and you have an air about you that can't be learned.  So who are you really, Jase Masters?  And what brought you to this place?"

Jason felt the impact of each of her softly-spoken words with all the force of a cannon ball.  Somehow, she was managing to see through a wall he'd spent years building around him.  What no one knew, not even Brady, she was already starting to guess at.  And he'd known her for less than a day.  He could no longer pretend that this could be simply an everyday flirtation.  Mimi Lockhart wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than knowing him completely, and that was something Jase simply couldn't have.  He couldn't even look to closely at his memories or at what he had become because of them.  He certainly couldn't burden the innocent girl before him with such atrocities.  

"That's none of your damn business," he gritted out, as his hands gripped her shoulders with unnecessary force.  He saw her wince, but she refused to back away or even look away from his anger.  Frustrated with her persistence and even more so by her effect on him, Jason let her go as if she burned him and stepped back quickly.  "Good night, Mimi."  

Mimi watched as Jason stormed out of the cabin and down the passageway, not even bothering to shut the door behind him.  She couldn't explain why she had felt the need to press so hard, but he had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with her.  She shrugged, as she moved to close the door again.  If Jason Masters didn't want her help, she certainly wasn't going to put herself forward like that again.  She didn't need him or anyone else.  She did just fine taking care of herself.

~~*~~

It was midnight by the time Kevin came to relieve him.  By then, Brady had already found his grudging respect for his father growing into full admiration.  Lord John Black was an honorable man, who seemed willing to do anything to ensure the safety of his daughter and her friends.  Which only gave Brady more cause to wonder why his father had never come to rescue him and his mother.  Maybe he had thought they were dead.  Isabella had always believed that her husband died in the shipwreck.  Maybe he held the same true for his wife and son.  

But something kept Brady from revealing the truth.  He wanted a chance to know his family, without them knowing him.  He wanted to be able to prove himself worthy of them.  And so far, his life had been less than admirable.  He winced as he thought of what his mother would have said if she had lived to see him come to this.  Of course, her death was the very reason he was here.  Isabella's loving heart and forgiving nature had spared her nothing when the Inquisitors got their hands on her.  All the Spaniards had cared about was torturing another heretic.  His mother's screams still echoed in Brady's ears.  

He refused to allow himself to think about it any longer.  He needed to clear his head before he'd be able to sleep.  With a quick, firm stride he made his way along the pitch black corridors below deck.  This was his ship, and he knew every nook and cranny of it.  He needed no light to guide him, as he made his way up to the deck.  He felt better the moment the first blast of fresh sea air met his lungs.  It was only here that he could find some measure of peace, some momentary liberty from the thoughts and memories that were his constant torment.

Trained to be always on alert, Brady's eyes caught a slight movement by the rail.  It only took him a moment to recognize the profile of the goddess in blue he had abducted that day.  Still as stone, he watched her, drinking in the pleasing sight.  Her dark hair was no longer styled but hung in a flowing river down to the middle of her back.  Her face was lifted to the sky, as if the moon was speaking to her.  The silvery beams shining down upon her gave her an even more ethereal look.  Brady felt like he could simply stand there looking at her forever, soaking in the peace she seemed to bring him.

Chloe sensed rather than saw him watching her.  She could feel the power of his gaze all the way under her skin.  That terrifyingly heady emotion she'd come out here to escape was back in full force.  Her breathing quickened almost without her knowledge as she turned to face him.  He was still wearing that black mask, which covered the upper half of his face, all except the eyes which glowed with even more blue fire in the moonlight.  The flowing white shirt with the drawstring collar and the tan breeches only further enhanced his aura of strength and control.  He exuded masculine virility in a way Chloe had never confronted before.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke as their eyes met and locked in a battle of extremes, pride versus desire, control versus passion.  Brady finally broke the spell by taking a step towards her.  Chloe jumped back, even though there was still more than twenty feet between them.  Brady's mouth turned up in a slight smirk at her fearful reaction.  Did she actually think he would hurt her?  His smile quickly turned into a frown, as he realized that had it been a member of his crew, her fear might be justified.  "You were told not to leave the cabin," he spoke sharply, the words cutting through the silence with all the force of a rapier.  

Chloe raised her chin defiantly.  She was in the wrong, and she knew it, which only made her more defensive.  "I do what I please," she returned haughtily.  "It's inhuman of you to expect us to spend all our time in that little cabin.  People need fresh air and exercise, you know.  And as you insist we're not prisoners, than I insist on the right to free movement aboard ship."

Brady raised an unseen eyebrow at her regal tone.  His hands rested loosely on his hips as he took a few more steps towards the lady.  She looked like she wanted nothing more than to retreat but couldn't lest she put herself in a position of weakness.  "As I'm sure Jase explained to you, the instruction to stay below is for your own safety, my lady."

Chloe rolled her eyes.  Why did men always insist on believing that women were incapable of taking care of themselves?  "Nonsense.  As you already promised Lord Black, no one is going to harm me or any of the other girls.  I'm perfectly safe here, just as safe as I would be in the cabin."

"Are you so sure about that?"  His voice was deep and mesmerizing as he closed the distance between them.  Chloe found herself leaning back against the rail as his body trapped her there.  Determined to teach her a lesson, Brady let his finger gently trail down her cheek, jaw, and throat.  He could feel her immediately tense at his touch, but he also felt the rapid beating of her pulse and the hot flush of her skin.  "Don't count too heavily on the word of a pirate, lady."

Her head told her to pull away from his touch, to call his bluff; but her body refused to obey.  From the moment his skin came in contact with hers, she felt herself grow weak, surrendering utterly to his influence.  His fingers quit moving, as he cupped her neck with the whole of his hand.  Against her own will, her eyes locked on his full lips, as she began to wonder what it would feel like to have them take control of hers.  She moistened her lips expectantly.  If ever he wanted to kiss her, he wouldn't ask permission.  He wouldn't be like Philip.  Philip.  Thoughts of her fiancé gave her the power, if not of movement, at least of speech.  "Please, don't."

The words came out as little more than a whisper, but they had the force of bringing Brady back to reality.  What had begun as an attempt to show the lady the dangers of disobeying his instructions had instead showed him how dangerous she was to him, to his promise, to the whole purpose of this mission.  The feel of her skin had robbed him of his wits; and if she had not spoken up when she did, he would no doubt have surrendered to the moment and kissed her.  But the soft words made him immediately drop his hand from her.  

He was suddenly aware of how young and vulnerable she looked.  The bodice of her dress rose and fell with every anxious breath she took, and her eyes were wide with mingled fear and desire.  He wanted to put her back at her ease with him; wanted, for some reason he chose not to analyze, her to trust him, to feel safe with him.  To that end, he took a step away from her and spoke gently.  "What's your name, my lady?"

Chloe's tongue felt like cotton in her mouth.  She tried to push away the vague feeling of disappointment that the pirate captain hadn't kissed her.  She should be feeling relieved, not frustrated.  "Chloe," she told him leadenly.  "Chloe Wesley."

Brady smiled kindly down at her, before taking her hand and raising it to his lips.  "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Wesley."  Even the light brush of a kiss against her hand had him wanting more of her.  Her skin was as smooth as the silk of her dress, and much softer.  He frowned, quickly dropping her hand.

Chloe pulled back, shocked at the waves of heat that had flooded her body through his lips, his touch.  She cradled her hand against her chest, trying to slow her heart rate.  "May I go now, Captain?" she inquired softly, afraid to stay under his influence any longer, lest she be completely corrupted.  And love every minute of it.

Brady nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak.  He took another step back, allowing her a free path back to the cabin.  He watched as she slowly, sedately, made her way across the deck, carrying that incomparable dignity with her.  She was halfway to her destination, before his words brought her up short.  "By the way, your request is granted.  You will have free movement aboard ship."

Chloe didn't turn around, afraid he'd see the gleeful smile that overcame her at his words.  "Thank you, sir.  Good night."  She spoke the words softly, almost hoping he wouldn't hear her.  But the slight smile on his lips as she disappeared below deck proved otherwise.  Brady waited until he lost sight of her, before turning back to look at the moon.  

He was so lost in his thought that he didn't see the figure watching him from behind the wheelhouse.  He didn't see the cruel smile that adorned her lips as she found the scandal she'd been looking for.


	7. Chapter Seven

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Seven**

It was an awkward situation, to say the least, simply sitting there staring at each other with nothing to say.  Jason silently cursed Brady for this overly cautious provision.  Nothing was going to happen to Lord Black aboard the _Vengeance.  And in the meantime, Jason had to spend a third of his day stuck in this abominably hot makeshift dungeon with a man with whom he shared nothing in common._

For his part, John Black seemed to have reached a state where the presence of another man in the room barely registered with him.  He might be staring straight at Jason; but Jase had the distinct feeling he was looking right through him.  His thoughts were focused inward and elsewhere, and Jason couldn't help but wonder what they involved.  

Jason frowned_ as he reflected on the events starting with the day they had returned to Jamaica and learned of the ill-fated voyage of the __Dolphin and culminating in yesterday's abduction.  Something about it simply didn't sit right with him, and he had to diagnose what it was, lest it drive him insane.  Brady's behavior was probably the oddest thing so far.  He'd been erratic, moody, on the entire trip to sea; and he refused to voice his concerns with Jason.  While the two men rarely discussed their inner thoughts with each other, preferring instead to keep most of their painful pasts locked away behind bars of iron, they had always shared a camaraderie that until now had never been broken.  _

But from the moment Jason had told Brady about the Spanish plot on the life of Lord Black, Brady had withdrawn entirely into himself.  Even this rescue had been entirely out of character for the pirate who was generally regarded as completely heartless.  Granted, Jase had never completely agreed with that assumption; but he had never thought he'd see the day when anything managed to breach the armor surrounding his captain's emotions.  This had certainly done that.

Yet more confusing was Brady's insistence on wearing that bloody mask all the time.  They would be lucky to make it out of this debacle alive, and he was worrying about the remote possibility of being recognized once they got back to shore.  Stranger still, Brady had called Kev and Jase to him just the day before they took the ship to tell them never to call him by his given name during the rest of the journey.  They had both learned long ago not to question their captain's orders, but Jason at least went away wondering what the hell Brady was trying to hide.  None of the rest of the crew even knew Brady's Christian name; and on shore, he went by his alias.  So what game was he playing with all of this?

Jason needed answers; and if he wasn't going to get them from Brady, he'd have to look elsewhere.  With that in mind, he studied their captive more fully.  Lord John Black was a man whose strength and power could be felt even contained by iron bars.  He might have been born to the aristocracy, but a man would have to be a fool to think of him as coddled in any way.  Lord Black was a man of action, of vigorous energy; and Jason knew with certainty that somehow he was the key to unraveling the mystery of Brady.

"Does your lordship need anything?" Jason asked with diffident politeness, as a way of beginning the conversation he hoped would lead him nearer to the truth.  

John was suddenly so alert, without seeming to have come out of a daze of any sort that Jason began to wonder if he hadn't been studying him the entire time.  The viscount frowned as he sized up the pirate through slit-like eyes under raised brows.  "I've had my bread and water.  That's all a prisoner is entitled to, isn't it?"

Jason chuckled wryly.  "I wouldn't know, sir.  I've never had the privilege of being a captive, though I'm sure that's an honor which will shortly be granted to me.  But in the meantime, you are not a prisoner, not in the true sense of the word at any rate."

"I'm locked in a cell with a guard watching over me.  What exactly is that if not a prisoner?" John spat out violently.  He hated being in the position of weakness, and he hated even more being told he wasn't by those who held all the power.

"As you've been told before, your lordship, this is merely for your protection.  Believe it or not, there are other things I'd rather be doing with my time than sitting here with you.  But as we both have to be here, we might as well make ourselves as comfortable as possible.  To that end, I ask you again.  Do you need anything?  More food, more water, a bottle of rum, a change of clothes?  I can't do anything for you at the moment, but I'll be sure to attend to it as soon as I'm relieved."  

John fought back the urge to laugh.  Here he was, the right honorable Lord John Black, imprisoned in the hull of a pirate ship and still being waited on with all the deference he would have expected from his servants at the manor house.  He found himself inspecting the young man before him with more curiosity than previously.  Jason Masters certainly didn't fit his preconceived notions of a pirate, any more than that bloody Captain Blackheart did.  Both intelligent, both cultured, both born to something better than this.  What cruel twist of fate had brought them so low?

"Since you're offering, I would not object to a fresh set of clothes."  He cocked an eyebrow as he surveyed Jason's blood-stained clothes.  "That is if you have anything available that hasn't been corrupted with the pirate stench."

Jason smirked at the lord's haughty assertion.  "As a matter of fact, we do, Lord Black.  Whole trunks full of confiscated Spanish finery.  But for some reason, we would rather wear our foul rags than disgrace ourselves with the clothes of cowardly slaughterers."  

John's eyebrow seemed to rise even further on his impossibly high forehead at Jason's words.  "This, coming from a self-professed murderer?"

Jason didn't respond immediately.  Rather he abruptly pulled his cutlass out of the leather baldric that hung constantly round his shoulder and waist.  The polished steel glinted as it caught the light from the one small porthole.  In the hands of the pirate, it looked exactly like what it was…a tool of vengeance, an instrument of justice.  Jason's face hardened beyond his young years as he moved it slowly through the air.  He didn't see the bright metal as it was, rather a vision of what it looked like dripping with the blood of every man he'd ever killed.

"When I kill," he said finally, his voice as deadly cold as the weapon in his hands, "it's face to face.  When I kill, it's with my own hands, against men my own size and strength.  When I kill, I'm punishing the guilty.  When I kill, I stand there and I watch it happen.  The Spanish rarely see their victims die.  They die in the dark tunnels below the earth, mining for silver that they will never use.  It's so dark down there, you begin to wonder if there's even such a thing as the sun.  They die of the dirt and the work and cave-ins, and the Spanish don't care.  Not as long as the silver gets mined and carted and sent back to Madrid with His Majesty's seal.  When the Inquisitors kill, the victims die in dungeons below churches.  They die screaming to God to save them.  They die crying for their mothers, and their wives, and their children.  And when the Spanish kill, they kill the innocent…children, women…It doesn't matter.  So if you expect me to feel guilt over the men I've killed, you wait in vain.  As long as this arm can wield this sword, I'll kill; and I'll never regret it."

John shuddered at the horrible words.  The idea that one so young could be so heartless both appalled and frightened him.  And yet he saw still in the deep emerald eyes some spark of hurt and sorrow that seemed almost like a little boy lost.  "How old are you?" he asked suddenly, his thoughts wandering to his son.  Perhaps if Brady had lived, he would have been this man's age.

Lord Black's words sparked Jason out of his reverie.  He shrugged carelessly as he slipped the cutlass back into its place.  "I've forgotten," he said lightly.  "It's easy to do out here."  It was true.  Even upon reflection, Jason couldn't recall his precise age, or even his birth date.  Nor even, come to think of it, the date it was now.  Time didn't matter quite so much at sea.  Other things took precedence.

"Do you have any family?  A mother, father, wife?" John pried.  He felt a strange pity for the admitted murderer.  He looked like he hadn't known a home in a very long time.  "Surely they must wonder what's become of you."

It was as though a curtain had fallen in front of the pirate's face, and everything he felt or thought was abruptly wiped away behind a mask of iron.  "I have no one."  The icy tone of his voice refused to allow any more questions, and John respected that.  Realizing that they'd gotten nowhere near what he wished to discuss with the lord, Jason turned the tables around.  "What of you, your lordship?  I've had the pleasure of meeting your lovely daughter, but have you any other family?"

John abruptly shot up, livid fury painted on his face.  "Don't you dare lay a finger on my daughter!  Bars or not, I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!"  The staunch protective nature that was ingrained in John Black rose quickly at the merest mention of Belle.  All pity for the ruffian in front of him vanished as he pictured his dirty hands hurting the most precious treasure John had left.

Jason laughed at his vehemence, raising his hands in surrender.  "I promise, your lordship, I meant no offense.  I would not even think of going near the Lady Isabelle."  He reflected ruefully that such could not be said for his feelings towards Belle's pretty little maid.  But he figured such thoughts were better left unspoken.  "I merely meant to pay her a compliment; but I assure you, your daughter's honor is considered nothing short of sacred by the men aboard this ship."

Lord Black practically growled his discontent at this situation that kept his daughter so far from his protection.  "It had better damn well stay that way," he muttered darkly, "or I'll personally make sure that each and every one of you dangles from a rope at Execution Dock.  And that's a fact."

"That may yet be arranged, your lordship; but not for the reason you mentioned."  Jason's sardonic grin remained firmly in place through the whole interchange, and he was glad to see some sense of reason seemed to have returned to the viscount, who settled back down upon his cot.  "But I believe the topic of discussion was your family.  Is Lady Isabelle the extent of your relations?"

John eyed him shrewdly, as if trying to discern his reasons for asking.  Then, assessing the fact that he was in no position to argue, he answered through clenched teeth, "I have a wife at home in England."  He would say no more, for fear of putting Marlena in any form of danger.  Perhaps ransom was all these pirates wanted after all.

"But no other children?" Jason pressed.  He couldn't explain quite when the idea had come to him, but he couldn't seem to shake the feeling that Brady was in some way connected to the Blacks.  He wouldn't feel at ease until he'd discovered exactly what that correlation was.

A fleeting image of a pudgy little boy with sun kissed golden hair and laughing blue eyes passed through John's vision, before he shook it away. "No," he bit out, with the same flinty note Jason had used when questioned on his family.  Certain things were better left buried, like the dead.  Again, the mental portrait of the child appeared to him, joined this time by the dark-haired beauty who had been John's first love…the love he still yearned for.  "No.  There's no one."

And Jason let the silence fall on them again.  It was better that way.  In silence, one could sit next to another for hours and still be completely alone.

~~*~~

Chloe was shocked that morning to open her eyes and find herself confronted not only with a mouthwatering tray of fresh tropical fruits laid out on the captain's desk, but also an open trunk filled with several beautiful gowns.  Moving silently, so as not to wake the still sleeping Belle, she made her way across the room and began sifting through the dresses.  She found herself thinking that they were quite curious in design, until she realized they were Spanish made.  She abruptly dropped the soft blue fabric she'd been holding as her face paled.  These had obviously been stolen from some ship the _Vengeance had taken.  Pirate booty.  He had sent her pirate booty to wear!_

An even more appalling thought occurred to her, causing her usual color—and quite a bit more—to come back into her cheeks.  _He had been in her room!  He had watched her sleeping, seen her in a state of undress no man ever had, not even her father.  It was indecent!  She cursed herself for the faint thrill it gave her.  What was wrong with her?  She was sure that if Belle had realized all this, she'd have flown into hysterics and bemoaned her humiliation.  That was what Chloe should be doing, should be feeling.  And yet, she felt her heart begin to quicken with an emotion other than anger or embarrassment._

A soft knock on the door mercifully intruded on her thoughts.  Stealing a quick glance at Belle, who was just beginning to stir restlessly from sleep, Chloe crossed the few steps to the door and whispered quietly through it, "Who's there?"

"It's Mimi, my lady."  Chloe pushed aside the small prick of disappointment as she opened the door to let in Belle's maid.  Mimi entered, fussing uncomfortably with her dress as her cheeks turned red.  It seemed wrong somehow to be dressed in this finery in front of Lady Chloe Wesley, especially considering the lady was clad in little more than her chemise.  Mimi would much rather have been in her simple brown frock and would probably still have worn the dirty smock, if she hadn't noticed the large tear in the skirt.  

So here she stood, feeling like a damn fool, in a dress that seemed bigger than she was, a dress made of satin and lace and formed of a rich green color that made her feel almost gaudy.  She couldn't even walk in the gown.  It felt like every step was a chore and getting through doorways and down passageways took far too much maneuvering.  Mimi held her breath, simply waiting for Chloe to berate her or laugh at her or somehow make her feel even more ridiculous.  She waited and she waited.  Finally gathering her courage, she met the lady's eyes and was surprised by the admiration she saw there.

"Mimi, you look lovely," Chloe said with a smile, seeing the servant's embarrassment and confusion.  "Why haven't you ever worn green before?  It brings out your eyes.  Granted, the Spanish style is a bit…shall we say, ostentatious?  But really, you're a beautiful girl."  It had never occurred to her before to see Mimi as anything more than the background scenery.  Her presence was simply a part of everyday life that Chloe took for granted.  Somehow, it had taken seeing the girl out of her traditional uniform to realize that Mimi was a girl much as she and Belle were, with beauty and dreams of her own.  Chloe's smile widened into a welcoming grin as she decided then and there to shove all rules of social convention out the window and befriend the maid.  After all, everything else had changed.  Why not this as well?

Mimi flushed, unsure how to respond to Chloe's friendliness.  It was completely out of character for the normally aloof lady.  But, she reasoned internally, perhaps Chloe was feeling as bewildered, terrified and yet enthralled by this whole situation as she was.  It would seem natural in that case for the two to bond, especially considering that Belle couldn't possibly comprehend the invigorating feeling of Life that flowed through their veins as the sea air entered their lungs.  Slowly, Mimi began to smile back, a small giggle escaping her lips.  "Thank you, my lady.  But I feel as big as a boat in these skirts."

Chloe grimaced a little as she reflected on the sheer volume of the material in the dresses.  And she had cursed the layers she had been forced to wear as an English lady.  "Yes, well, it doesn't appear we have much choice, do we?  At least until we can get our own dresses cleaned; and who knows when that may be."

Mimi frowned speculatively as she picked up the blue gown Chloe had recently discarded.  "I suppose so, my lady, at least for today.  But I might be able to speak to Jase about getting hold of some sewing supplies.  After all, he brought the dresses this morning.  Perhaps I can make some alterations to render these gowns more comfortable."

Chloe raised an eyebrow at Mimi's familiar use of the pirate's name but chose not to mention it.  She felt another wave of disappointment as the awareness that the captain hadn't been there flooded in on her, before she forced herself to ignore it.  "Oh, so he brought in this trunk and food then?" she asked with seeming casualness, which fooled neither herself nor Mimi, but kept up appearances.

"No, m'lady.  He stopped by my cabin quite early this morning, before he was to take his shift guarding Lord Black.  He left the breakfast trays with me, as well as telling me about the trunks.  They were already placed here for our convenience."  Mimi related the information tonelessly, letting no hint of her own emotions about the encounter seep through.  She had been severely disappointed by Jason's cool manner this morning, even though she tried to deny it to herself.  He had simply dropped off the food, told her about the clothes, and walked away.  Not a hint of emotion in any of his gestures or words.  And Mimi had to lie to herself and say she didn't care.

"Oh," Chloe replied stupidly, for lack of anything else to say.  Suddenly realizing how hungry she was and the fact that she hadn't eaten since yesterday morning, she abruptly sat down at the captain's desk and picked up one of the succulent slices of fruit.  She looked at the foreign object curiously before turning to Mimi.  "Have you eaten yet?"

"Yes, m'lady.  I've been awake for hours.  I heard you stirring from the next cabin and knew my services would soon be needed."

Chloe shook her head in amazement.  She had thought she was so quiet and yet Mimi had heard her through a wall.  She turned to the bed to see Belle finally blinking her heavy lidded eyes against the sun.  Knowing her friend's penchant for waking slowly, Chloe turned back to her breakfast, taking one cautious bite of the new food substance.  The fruit had barely to touch her lips when her eyes rolled back in ecstasy and a small moan of contentment escaped her lips.  "This is heaven!  What is this?"

Mimi grinned, only too aware of how good the exotic fruits tasted, especially on a starved stomach.  "It's papaya, Lady Chloe, one of the fruits common in this part of the world."  She tried not to think of Jason's lips saying the same words to her just the night before, tried not to think of the deep sound of his voice, or the strange tremors he was able to inspire in her body with no effort at all.  

"Belle, you've got to try this!" Chloe squealed, all thoughts of letting Belle wake as best pleased her friend forgotten in the face of her new discovery.  She grabbed another piece of the fruit for herself and one for Belle and darted across the room to wave it temptingly in front of Belle's still drowsy face.  

Belle only blinked in confusion, as if trying to process where she was and what was going on.  Then, with a flash, the whole nightmarish experience settled in on her once more; and she buried her head back in the pillow miserably.  "I'm not hungry," she murmured, though her words were muffled.

"Yes, you are, Belle," Chloe insisted, in a softer tone as she saw her friend's depressed state.  "Come on, Belle.  Just a taste.  You must be starving by now.  You've barely eaten this whole voyage."  When Belle still refused with only a shake of her head, Chloe looked over to Mimi for help.  

Without a word, Mimi came and took Chloe's place by her mistress's side.  "Lady Isabelle, you must eat.  You'll need your strength."  She spoke in soothing tones, as if to a child, while she stroked back the baby fine blonde hair.  "It will all be all right.  But you have to eat."

Belle turned her face back to the light, clinging to her maid's hand as if to life itself.  "I'll eat, Mimi.  But first, I want to know where Papa is.  Where is he, Mimi?  Can you take me to him?"  Her angelic face reflected her honest fear that something horrible had happened to the father who was her last link with the safety she had always known. 

"I'll find out where he is, my lady," Mimi promised.  "But first, you both need to eat and dress.  Then, I'll have Jan attend to you while I find out where his lordship is.  Don't worry, my lady.  Your father will be fine, just fine."

~~*~~

Lady Chloe Wesley was feeling more than a little restless.  Being stuck in a practically airless cabin with a friend who was incapable of any conversation not bemoaning the state of their lives and an indolent, disrespectful maid wasn't exactly her idea of a great time.  She thought enviously of Mimi, who was out making a full tour of the ship in an effort to discover where Lord Black was being held.  She wished she had thought to go with her.

Belle released a sigh of frustration as she watched her tall, elegant friend pacing furiously back and forth across the small cabin.  Belle couldn't understand how Chloe could even bear to walk in one of those awful dresses.  She smoothed down the pile of blue satin surrounding her, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in the odd gown.  Chloe barely seemed to register the fact that she was wearing at least twenty pounds of extra weight in that Spanish gown of deep purple.  She simply scowled her boredom at no one in general, while Belle looked on with tear-stained eyes and Jan occupied herself with intently studying her reflection in the scarlet dress of a Spanish Infantata through a small mirror on the captain's wall.  

Chloe suddenly stopped her frantic walk to gaze speculatively at her oldest, dearest friend.  "Belle, wouldn't you like to go up on deck for a while to get some air?  It will be so good for you.  The sea air is the most strengthening substance I've ever encountered.  Besides, it will give us both a distraction."

Baby blue eyes widened in horror as Belle listened to the outrageous suggestion.  "But…but Chloe, there are pirates out there!  What if they attack us?  Besides, aren't we supposed to stay in the cabin?  That's what Mr. Masters told us yesterday."  

Chloe barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Belle's childish fears.  "No one will touch us, Belle.  The captain promised your father we'd be safe, remember?  And I've been given permission to go wherever I like on the ship."  She sat down next to Belle on the bed, forming a veritable wave of material around them both.  "Come on, Belle.  Let's have an adventure!"

Belle only shook her head in dismay at Chloe's rebellious streak.  She'd seen slight evidences of it before.  Times at school when Chloe wasn't above sneaking out after hours simply to run in the moor, or playing a nasty joke on fellow students she didn't much care for.  But this was the first time she would classify that streak of wildness as dangerous.  And it was the first time she'd known Chloe not to try and keep it hidden.  Never having had an ounce of rebellion in her, Belle answered quite calmly.  "I've had more than enough of an adventure for one lifetime, Chloe.  All I want now is to make it to Jamaica…and Shawn…in one piece, and I think the chances of that happening are much better if I simply stay in this room."

"Belle, I'm telling you, nothing will happen to us," Chloe pressed on, confident in her ability to make Belle come around.  The two girls were used to being able to convince the other of anything if they had their mind set on it.  "We'll all go in a group and simply take a turn around the ship's deck.  Think of it, Belle.  The wind in your hair, breathing in the fresh sea air, listening to the lapping of the water, feeling the sun on your back…"

"Don't mention the sun to me!" Belle interrupted fiercely, with a pointed touch to her red nose.  In the time she'd spent outdoors the day before, she'd managed to turn the color of a ripe apple.  Her milk white skin had been much more susceptible to the sun's rays than her darker complexioned friends.  

Chloe groaned in defeat.  "Fine," she huffed, flouncing back farther against the bed.  "What shall we do then?  There's absolutely nothing to occupy us down here."

"Why don't you go then?" Belle snapped irritably.  If Chloe refused to see sense and wouldn't sympathize with Belle in their captivity, then Lady Isabelle didn't much care to have her around.  "But I'm staying here."

"Fine," Chloe remarked again, with effort pushing back the folds of her dress enough to stand.  Seeing her mistress about to leave, Jan immediately got to her feet as well, also dying to escape the oppressive cabin.  Chloe glared at her.  Her patience already having been tried by Belle, she was in no mood to deal with a maid she knew hated her.  "You may stay with Lady Black, Jan.  She'll need you in case she gets sick again."

"You can't mean to go wandering about a ship of murderers by yourself, my lady?" Jan asked, in an appalled voice, more horrified by the idea of being forced to spend an afternoon in the company of the hopelessly bland Belle Black than by Chloe's breaking of social etiquette.  

Chloe lifted her chin haughtily and graced her maid with a withering stare that clearly showed what she thought of Jan's impertinence.  "I'll do as I please, Jan.  I'm going above.  You're staying here. The matter is closed."  She threw one last glance over her shoulder at Belle, who once again had wells of tears in her eyes.  Pity tugged at Chloe's heart, but she'd never been good at comforting people, not like Mimi.  "I'll see if I can find some more pineapple for you, Belle," she offered, as her way of making up.  That had been Belle's favorite of the fruits.  

Belle graced her friend with a watery smile in gratitude.  They never could stay angry with each other for very long, especially not in a situation like this.  "Thank you, Chloe.  I think I'll take a nap while you and Mimi are both gone anyway.  Maybe I'll feel better after I get some sleep."

"Sweet dreams," Chloe returned softly before making her way out of the cabin.  She felt better the moment the door shut behind her.  She had never done well with confinement, even in school.  Chloe needed freedom of movement to make up for the restraints she always placed around her spirit.  Of course, even those restraints seemed to be fading the farther away she got from the shores of England.  It was easy to forget about the rules that had always bound her when whichever way she looked she saw nothing but the endless ocean.

With that image floating before her brain, she once again made her way to the deck, eager to feast her eyes again on the blue depths that had so completely captured her imagination and her heart.  On her way, she passed several members of the pirate crew, but none she recognized, and not the one she told herself she didn't want to see.  These were the rabble that had so offended her eyes and nostrils the first moment she stepped aboard deck.  They didn't improve upon closer inspection.  

A dart of fear passed through her the first time she had to pass by one of them.  Despite herself, she felt a wave of nausea at the leering look in his eyes.  But evidently, the captain hadn't lied about the pirates leaving them alone, for the man simply bobbed his head in an awkward sign of deference and let her go on her way unmolested.  She encountered similar reactions from practically every man she went by.  Some even went so far as to attempt a sweeping bow or a greeting of "G'day, lady."  

After a few minutes, Chloe forgot to be afraid and simply made her way to the rail to look out on the relatively calm seas that stretched to the horizon.  She didn't know how long she'd stood there until a slight commotion among the crew made her turn to observe them.  It didn't take her long to notice they were all looking up at one particular tower of rigging.  

Shielding her eyes against the sun, Chloe followed their line of vision to the man making his way deftly up the treacherous ropes.  Bare feet allowed him better grip on the rigging, and his black leather breeches clung to the powerful muscles in his legs.  He wore no shirt, and his bronzed, muscled chest was exposed to the lady's shocked yet captivated eyes.  The black bandana wrapped around his hair and the upper half of the face would have given away his identity, even if the sudden increase of her heart rate hadn't.  An occasional glint around his face confused her, until she realized that he was carrying a knife in his mouth.  

Breathless, she looked beyond his progress to see the reason for his climb.  At the very height of the ship's reach, a gull was trapped and fluttering helplessly against the ropes.  "All this for a bird," she muttered ungraciously, fear for his safety making her even more ill-tempered.  

"He has to let it out, miss," a wizened old one-legged pirate by her side informed her after overhearing her statement.  The ropes could tear if it struggles too much, and the rigging would come crashing down.  Not to mention, it's not too good for the bird either."  He chuckled a little at his own joke.  But Chloe barely heard a word out of his mouth, so intent was she on watching Captain Blackheart's every move.  Her heart was in her throat as she watched him ascend to the top and begin untangling the animal.  A sudden cheer went up among the crew as the gull took flight.  

The captain turned to grin and wave down at his men, his motions stilling as his eyes encountered the lady watching him, with her hand to her breast.  He grinned as he took hold of one of the ropes and slid back down to the ground effortlessly.  Ignoring the congratulations of the men gathered round he made his way towards the rail where his lady awaited, her rapid pulse clearly visible in the lines of her throat.  He smirked down at her.  "You weren't worried now, were you, my lady?"

Confronted with the gleaming, solid chest, the laughingly glowing crystal eyes behind the black mask, the irresistible curve of his perfect mouth, any clever retort Chloe might have made died on her lips; and she stood there gawking at him, forgetting all thoughts forever of what was expected of her.  Nothing mattered beyond the man before her and the feelings he alone could inspire.

~~*~~

Mimi was quickly becoming familiar with every facet and area of the ship, but she had yet to find any trace of Belle's father…or of Jase Masters, though she refused to admit that she was more eager to see him than she could ever be to encounter Lord Black.  She justified any thoughts of him as the knowledge that he would be guarding Lord Black, and she'd have to face him again.  

Not that this was something she was dreading, she reflected, angry at herself.  She knew better than to let her fancy be taken by a rogue like him.  She wanted more from her life.  And as long as she kept telling herself this, she felt there was some small chance of keeping her virtue and her heart intact.  Of course, that voice in her head tended to be drowned out whenever she was in his presence.  That could be problematic.

Finally encountering a door she didn't think she'd been through before, Mimi stopped her rambling thoughts and feet.  "This had better be it," she mumbled under her breath, more than ready to have this search over with.  With that thought in mind, her hands fumbled for the catch of the door and shoved it open.  

A small gasp escaped her lips as she felt sharp, cold steel pressed against the fine line of her throat.


	8. Chapter Eight

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Eight**

Jason uttered a short, foul word as he allowed his cutlass to drop back to his side.  "Mimi Lockhart, what the hell do you think you're doing?" he spat out, his fear at what he might have done causing him to be shorter with her than he otherwise would have been.  "I could have killed you!"

Mimi barely registered his words, her eyes instead were glued to the weapon which only a moment before had been in a position to take off her head with one quick slash.  Her hand immediately went to her throat, as if to assure herself that she was still in one piece.  "I…I'm sorry," she breathed, when speech finally returned to her.  "I…that is, Belle…Lady Black…she wanted me to find her father, and…"

Jason frowned as her words trailed off.  The fright she had received was still clearly evident in her deep emerald eyes.  It made him want to wrap her tightly in his arms until the trembling ceased; and that protectiveness didn't sit well with him.  He didn't like the feelings she roused.  He had never in his life needed to worry about anyone's neck but his own; and now with one simple, startled glance, Mimi Lockhart had become his ultimate responsibility.  

"I'm right here, Mimi," John Black's voice interrupted the tense silence surrounding the two.  His tone was harsh, and he was glaring daggers at the pirate who had so unnecessarily endangered the life of a girl he considered practically part of the family.  

Finally tearing her eyes away from the sword by Jason's side, Mimi looked up to see the small cell which housed the proud man.  "Oh, your lordship," she gasped, partly in relief, partly in astonishment.  Without another thought for Jason or what he had the power to do to her, she stepped into the room and ran up to the bars.  John's large, rough hands closed around her small ones and seemed to impart some of his strength to her.  Her shaking stopped.  "Are you all right?  What did they do to you?"

"I'm fine, Mimi," John assured her easily.  The poor girl needed someone to be strong for her after the scare that blasted scoundrel had given her.  "They haven't harmed me in the least.  Nor will they, so they say.  What of you?  Are you all right?  And Belle?  And Chloe?  They haven't…hurt you, have they?"

Mimi's face flushed at the peculiar note in his voice as John said the word "hurt."  She knew only too well what he meant.  "No, your lordship.  No one has laid a finger on any of us.  We're all safe and well.  We have food and water and clothes to spare."  She fidgeted nervously with the monstrosity of a dress she was wearing.  "Lady Isabelle is a bit sun burnt, and she worries dreadfully; but other than that, we're absolutely fine."

"Tell my Izzy it's all going to turn out right," John ordered, giving Mimi's hand a squeeze for added reassurance.  "We'll get out of this.  It's only a matter of time before the _Dolphin makes it to Port Royal, and then Shawn will have the whole of the English fleet in the West Indies after us.  Tell my daughter that, and she'll sleep better at night."_

Mimi nodded, thinking again how much Lord Black loved his daughter and how well he knew her.  If one thing would restore some hope to the grieving lady, it was the thought of her fiancé, her knight in shining armor, so to speak.  Recalling the mission which brought her here, she asked quietly, "Is there anything I can get for you, your lordship?"

"No, Mimi.  Just take care of my little girl.  Let her know I'm all right, and we'll be reunited shortly.  I have everything I need.  These pirates have been surprisingly…civil with me."  He shot a lethal glare over her shoulder at Jason who stood in the doorway, uncaring if they knew he was eavesdropping.  "As long as all of you are safe and well, I am perfectly capable of bearing this confinement."

"I think Lady Isabelle will want to come see you, m'lord," Mimi confided, the uncertainty of her tone easily apparent to both men in the room.  She had almost been scared out of her mind on this expedition.  She didn't think her mistress's frail constitution would be able to stand the excitement.

"We could arrange an escort for her, Lord Black," Jason broke in, before John could speak so much as a single dissenting word.  "She'd be perfectly safe in the company of myself or the captain."

Wary looks settled upon both the viscount's and the maid's faces as they turned to face their pirate guard.  They had both, for their various reasons, been doing their best to ignore Jason's presence, and he had made it impossible.  Mimi visibly reddened under his bold, unabashed stare.  John was moved in yet another way…towards anger.  "After the display I witnessed mere moments ago, Masters, I hardly think I'd feel safe with my daughter in your company.  How do I know it's not her neck you'll be slicing next?"

Jason's jaw clenched before he forced himself to visibly relax.  "I was acting on instinct, your lordship.  I apologize to both yourself and Mistress Lockhart, but you must know I would never have willingly harmed her in any way."  Shifting his gaze back to Mimi's down-turned face, he added in a softer tone, "You know that, right?"

Mimi's head jerked up again at the almost gentle words escaping his lips.  He sounded so sincere, like he really did care about her.  Despite herself, Mimi nodded an acceptance to his apology.  She knew she was safe with him.  She knew he would never hurt her…in fact, this strange, contradictory man before her might very well die for her if need be.  

Lord Black watched the silent interplay with interest.  One of the things he'd always valued about Miriam Lockhart was her high moral standards.  He'd never had to worry about any low-bred sailors sneaking around the kitchen door waiting for her.  He'd never had to worry about _any man where she was concerned.  So he'd somehow developed the notion that Mimi's sole purpose in life was to serve his daughter, and she took the whole pride of her existence from it.  But this flirtation with a murdering pirate was clearly unacceptable behavior.  "Mimi," he said sharply, disrupting their moment.  "I want you to return to my daughter's side.  She's in need of you at this time, and I trust you will not leave her again."_

Mimi's cheeks turned crimson with humiliation at Lord Black's unexpressed censure.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jason glaring in angry disbelief at her employer; but she forced herself to ignore it, or to gain any satisfaction from it, as she curtseyed respectfully before the viscount.  "Yes, m'lord.  I'll return to her immediately."  

With another curtsy, she turned and made for the doorway, the only drawback being she now had to face Jason Masters and his disapproval.  It was radiating out from him.  He thought she should have said something more, should have somehow stood up for her rights.  But he knew nothing about her life.  He knew nothing of what it was like to be dependent on a rich family's good temper for everything you had.  Mimi knew; and because she knew, she played by their rules.  This was her life; and if an outlaw like Jason Masters didn't understand that, what was it to her?

~~*~~

Chloe's mouth was dry, her head was spinning, and she was having difficulty even remembering the question he had asked, let alone the proper answer to it.  A bead of sweat ran down along his chin and dripped onto his solid bronze chest, before continuing down to even more beautiful sights.  Lady Chloe Wesley had never been prone to fainting fits like her best friend, but she suddenly felt her legs give out under her and began to melt onto the deck.

Arms like steel wrapped round her and lifted her up effortlessly.  She had not strength to resist, even if she had wanted to—which she most definitely did not.  She relaxed entirely into the warm, firm contours of his body.  Her face flushed with embarrassment; yet at the same time, it felt right to be in the captain's arms.  It felt like one of Belle's grand fairy tales come true.  Only she didn't believe in fairy tales.

"You shouldn't have come on deck without shade or escort, Lady Wesley," Captain Blackheart scolded her.  She detected more than a trace of concern in the reprimand.  "The tropical heat is too much for a lady such as yourself."

All thoughts of resting in his arms disappeared at his last sentence.  Chloe came to her senses and stiffened in his arms, kicking to be free.  "Put me down, Captain.  I am perfectly capable of walking for myself.  It wasn't the heat.  I am fine!  I can take care of myself."

He laughed mockingly, but he put her down under a tarp set up as a shaded awning.  "When have you ever taken care of yourself, milady?  In your castle in England, with your parents and a household of servants to fulfill your every whim?"

Chloe flushed red again, this time with rage and humiliation.  "Even assuming you are right about that, you must admit that I have done fine looking out for myself on this ship."

Blue eyes glinted with sardonic amusement behind the black mask.  "When would that be, m'lady?  Last night, when I found you wandering around the ship against captain's orders?  Or just now, when you would have fainted to the ground if I hadn't caught you?"

She raised her chin in open defiance.  "I explained my actions last night.  I refuse to be a prisoner in that horrible little cabin.  I would go mad in there.  As for today, well, I can only say I have never fainted before in my life, nor am I likely to again.  I blame this hideous dress.  It is insufferably hot."

His eyes swept over her in the heavy purple gown.  "I admit it's not what you're used to, but options are limited on a ship such as mine.  Of course, you could always take it off.  I doubt my crew would complain."  He raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Chloe could not believe her ears.  She had never been so insulted in all her life.  It was pure instinct that brought her hand sweeping across his face.  "Never speak to me like that!" she ordered, with no thought for her precarious position.

Blackheart didn't even flinch as her palm made contact with his flesh.  He had expected it and deserved it, but it was worth it to see the flush of rage—and something else—in her cheeks.  For all her cloistered upbringing, Lady Chloe Wesley had a fire in her he had never seen before.  He doubted she even realized the depth of the passion residing in her.  His mouth tipped up in a rueful grin.  "I'll accept the slap, m'lady; but one of the first things you'll learn during your stay on the _Vengeance is the only one who gives orders here is me.  You would do well to remember your life is in my hands."_

Chloe shrunk before his icy stare and even colder words, but only momentarily.  In a matter of seconds, she had rallied all the defiance breeding inside her.  "If you're going to kill me, go ahead.  I would rather face death than live with the threat of it."  His cold laughter chilled her to the bones.  "What is so humorous, Captain?"

"You, m'lady, facing down death.  You are such a child.  A brave child, 'tis true; but bravery only brings trouble when not accompanied by experience."

She cocked her head to the side mockingly.  "What's this?  A pirate philosopher?  Tell me, then, Captain, what makes you so wise?"

"Life," he replied instantly.  "I have lived it.  You have not.  It's that simple."

He was right.  She knew it.  Chloe didn't even have the desire to fight him this time.  Living life was the one thing denied to any woman in her situation.  Her parents had kept her sheltered and pampered all her childhood.  Philip wanted to put her up in some ivory tower where she would remain unaffected by the world for all her days.  No one ever asked what Chloe wanted.  No one ever stopped to think she might want something more.  

She turned away from the pirate and walked back to the rail, looking out over the rolling waves.  All she could see was the blue sea for miles, until it disappeared beyond the horizon.  Chloe knew she should be praying for rescue, yet instead she looked longingly out across the ocean.  "Have you ever wanted to go so far away no one could ever find you?"

The captain knew by the low tone of her voice she was speaking more to herself than to him, but he saw her misery and found himself wanting to comfort her in some way.  He stood beside her and looked into the sea he knew as well as his own mother.  "I used to."

Surprised, Chloe lifted her eyes to study him.  She wished he wasn't wearing the mask.  All she could tell from his profile was that his jaw was set.  "What changed?"

He shrugged.  "I actually did it.  I ran away from everything and everyone I knew, and I never looked back.  How do you think I ended up here?"

She felt a wave of envy assault her and turned back to the rail.  "Of course you can do that.  You're a man.  The rules are different for you."

"Maybe so," Brady agreed.  "But what's stopping you?  What do you want to run away from?"

Chloe shook her head, laughing bitterly.  "It doesn't matter.  There's no escaping it.  I chose for myself, and now I need to make myself accept what my life—or lack thereof—is going to be."

"Nothing is forever in this world, Lady Wesley.  The only finality is death."  Astonishing even himself, Brady put his hands on her shoulders and turned her face towards him.  He looked into the deep wells of sapphire blue and pierced beyond their exterior shell to see the fire, the hurt, the fear, the passion lying beneath.  "What do _you want?"_

Her entire life had been spent waiting for someone to ask her that simple question.  Lord and Lady Wesley never had, and she had finally given up hope they would.  Belle had always assumed Chloe wanted the same things she did.  Philip…Philip didn't care what anyone wanted except himself.  Now here she stood, face to face with her kidnapper, with the man she was supposed to fear, loathe, and avoid more than any other; and he alone spoke the words she longed to hear.

"What do I want?" Chloe repeated.  "I want…I want to be free.  I want to be somewhere where no one tells me what to do or where to go or what rules I have to follow.  I want to be able to follow the wind, turn cartwheels, scream at the top of my lungs.  I want _life, that's all."_

He didn't laugh at her words as she had been afraid he would.  He didn't demean her or mock her.  He simply nodded as if he understood.  "If you want it, Lady, you have to take it.  No one is going to give adventure to you.  You have to find it for yourself."

Chloe smiled.  "Well, you and your crew seemed to have found some for me."  She bit her lip indecisively for a moment before continuing.  "I…I shouldn't say this.  I shouldn't even think it, but I'm almost glad we were abducted…as long as nothing happens to us, of course.  I—I don't want to reach Jamaica anytime soon."

Brady knew what she meant without her having to say another word.  It was unsettling even to himself the way he understood her.  "Your marriage, my lady.  You don't want it, do you?"

Again, Chloe hovered between what she knew was proper and what she truly felt.  The whole conversation was surreal.  Here she stood talking with her kidnapper and feeling he knew her better than anyone else she'd ever known—even Belle.  What was it about this man that drew her towards him?  Whatever it was, it also made her incapable of lying to him.  "No, Captain, I don't."  

Even as the words left her mouth, she felt a great weight lift off her shoulders.  She had been carrying that around with her for so long.  She could never tell Belle or her parents.  Belle would never understand, and her parents would have used it as justification to keep her in England with them.  Telling the truth to this virtual stranger granted her release without adding any guilt.

Brady's mouth turned up at the corners.  It was gratifying to know that a woman of such extraordinary spirit, intelligence, and beauty didn't fancy the obnoxious planter.  "I don't blame you, Lady Wesley.  I happen to have some personal knowledge of Philip Kiriakis, and he's something less than honorable."

Chloe frowned, her normally smooth skin creasing.  "How could you possibly know Philip?"

"Ah, you'd be surprised what I know, Lady Wesley," the captain replied in a husky, mysterious tone that sent shivers up her spine.  "The _Vengeance carries many secrets aboard."_

She was suddenly acutely aware of his close proximity to her.  If he wanted to, he could pull her into his arms.  A thrill of excitement went through her, but she pushed it ruthlessly away.  "What about you, Captain?" she asked quietly, unable to resist.  "What are your secrets?  Why do you hide behind the mask?"  Her hand reached for his face, wanting to remove the black shred as if that would lay even his soul before her.

He caught her hand effortlessly.  A shock of electricity passed between them the moment their skin touched, and their eyes met, echoing the other's surprise.  Brady kept his grasp on her wrist while lowering it down towards her side.  He could feel her pulse throbbing against his thumb.  Fear and desire mingled in the flushed cheeks.  "My secrets are my own, lady.  And we all wear masks.  Some are just more visible than others."  Before she had time to ask the question he could see forming on her lips, he abruptly dropped her hand.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, Lady Wesley, I must relieve my first mate in guarding Lord Black.  Can I accompany you back to the cabin?"

Chloe tried to cover from the whiplash she encountered from his sudden change of mood.  He had gone from mysterious, to seductive, to distant all in the space of a moment.  She did her best to match his formal tone.  "No thank you, sir.  I can find my own way."

He bowed slightly and turned to leave.  Her gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him.  He couldn't believe she felt secure enough to touch him.  As soon as he turned back however, her hand dropped away.  She averted her eyes as a blush rose to her cheeks.  "Yes, my lady?  Was there something you needed?"

"I…well…I wanted to thank you, Captain."  She gazed off far into the distance, afraid to look him in the eyes lest he read her heart inside her gaze.  

Brady frowned.  "Thank me?"  He couldn't remember anyone thanking him since…well, ever.  "For what?"

"For listening.  For talking to me.  No one's ever asked me what I want before.  I wanted you to know it meant something to me."  She gathered the courage to raise her eyes to his.

Brady was struck by the vulnerability he saw in her.  A vulnerability it would be all too easy to take advantage of.  He frowned, hating how she managed to get under his skin.  "You're welcome," he returned gruffly and turned away.  He had to keep his distance from that girl.  He had given his word, and he'd be damned before he broke his only promise to his father.

~~*~~

"Mimi?  Mimi, are you listening to me?"

"Huh?" Mimi murmured, trying to pull herself out of her stupor.  She had been like that ever since she returned from the prison below decks.  As hard as she tried, she could not stop thinking about that damn pirate.  Every look, every moment, every word was emblazoned in her memory and replayed over and over with no sign of cessation.  

"I asked if you remembered to ask about the dresses," Belle repeated impatiently, shaking a fistful of lace in her maid's face for emphasis.  Honestly, she couldn't remember ever seeing Mimi so distracted before.  The girl had the strangest, glassy-eyed look on her face.  "Mimi, are you okay?"

Mimi pulled herself together in an instant.  There was no way she could tell Belle that she was fantasizing about one of their abductors.  Belle would never understand.  "I'm fine, m'lady.  Perhaps a bit tired is all.  And no, your ladyship.  To answer your question, I forgot to ask about the thread.  I will remember to do so the next time they bring food."

Belle studied the other girl with genuine concern.  Mimi might be her servant, but she was her friend as well.  It hurt knowing there was something she was keeping for her.  "Mimi, whatever it is, you can tell me.  Is it Jan?  Has she been giving you a hard time again?"

Mimi shook her head.  "No.  In fact, I've barely seen her all day long."  She couldn't muster up a trace of sadness for this state of affairs.  As soon as she had arrived back at the cabin, Jan had excused herself to get some air.  She hadn't come back.  "Really, m'lady, it's nothing.  Let it be."

Sighing in defeat, Belle leaned back on the bed.  Normally, she wouldn't give up so easily, but Lady Isabelle Black had been having a bad week.  Between seasickness, pirate abduction, questioning her father's love for her, and being separated from her beloved Shawn, it didn't look like life could get much worse.  "So I might get to see my father soon?  That's what you said, right?"

Mimi nodded, glad to have the focus off herself.  "Yes, m'lady.  They were discussing it when I left.  We should be notified soon."  Her mind again began to drift to the last look on Jason's face, but she managed to pull it back this time.

Before the highly frustrating conversation could continue any longer, the door opened and in swayed the third member of their little band.  If Belle had thought Mimi was acting strangely, it was nothing compared to the dreamy look on her best friend's face.  "Chloe, are you all right?"

"Hmm?" Chloe sighed, barely seeming to notice her miserable friend sprawled across the cot.  Indeed, she barely seemed to notice anything at all.

Mimi tried to hide her grin; but judging from the disapproving look Belle sent her, she wasn't very successful.  "Lady Wesley, may I help you with something?" she asked, as a way of amends.

"No, Mimi, I'm fine.  Besides, I told you to call me Chloe.  In fact, everyone should call me Chloe from now on.  No more Lady anything.  I'm sick of it," Chloe remarked with sudden passion which belied the airy quality she had exuded when she entered the room.

Belle rolled her eyes.  She was used to her friend's dramatics by now.  "Any particular reason for this decision, Chloe?"

Chloe flushed, shrugging her shoulders in a very unladylike fashion.  "Freedom," she murmured, staring through the small porthole at the birds soaring through the blue sky overhead.  

Mimi sat down on the other side of the window, staring up at the same birds.  "Exactly," she agreed quietly.

Lady Black gawked at both of them in dismay.  What was going on here?  Was captivity already making them crazy?  All she knew was that staring at her best friends, each lost in a world that she did not understand could not be a part of, she had never felt more alone.  "Oh, Shawn," she whispered, "please come soon."  With sudden insight, she knew that if they were on this ship for very long, Chloe and Mimi would be lost to her forever.

~~*~~

Jason rose, unsheathing his cutlass, as he heard a noise at the door again.  Three short raps sounded on the cabin, followed by a pause and then another knock.  Relieved, Jason put his weapon away and opened the door for his friend.  "You're late, Captain."

Brady shrugged, his eyes moving to the cell where his father was getting to his feet.  "I was detained.  All is well, I trust?"

"No, all is not well," John snapped before Jason could reply.  "This ruffian of yours nearly beheaded my daughter's serving maid this morning."

Brady's curious eyes fell on Jason's red face.  "What happened, Jase?"

It was Jason's turn to shrug.  "Mimi Lockhart opened the door without knocking and ended up a little too close to the point of my blade for his lordship's comfort, that's all.  You know me, Br…Blackheart."  John's eyes widened at Jason's mistake, but he said nothing.  "The girl was never in any real danger.  I like to know who I'm killing before I swipe off somebody's head."

Brady's eyes had turned to steel the moment Jason misspoke, but he tried to gloss over it.  He turned to his father's cell and offered a small bow.  "I apologize, Your Lordship, if you were afraid for the safety of the lass.  But Jason speaks the truth.  She was never in any real danger.  It is a protective measure to have a guard by your cell.  We're not exactly in the business of killing people onboard our own ship.  However, if you wish, I will have Masters apologize directly to Miss Lockhart for the fright."

"No!" John said a little too emphatically before bringing himself back under control.  "That is to say I want the ladies to have as much distance between themselves and your crew as possible.  I told you that already.  I think it is best simply to let the matter drop."  He didn't voice his fear that there was a strong possibility that further interaction between Mimi and that particular pirate would end in something ruinous to all.

"As you wish," Brady demurred, with another bow.  "If you'll excuse us, Your Lordship, my first mate and I have something to discuss.  We'll be right outside the door…for your protection, of course."

"Of course," John replied smoothly, his tone every bit as falsely pleasant as the captain's.  There was no way he was going to let a murdering pirate beat him in a game of chivalry.  "I'm sure you know I'll be waiting when you return."

Brady struggled to hide his grin.  He began to understand where he got his sadistic sense of humor.  With a jerk of his head in Jason's direction, he led the way out of the makeshift brig.  

Jason followed, his arms crossed defensively.  He knew he was about to catch grief over something.  He didn't wait for Brady to begin.  The instant the door was closed, he attacked with, "What's the matter now, Brady?"

"_That is the matter, Masters," Brady hissed in a low tone.  "You almost slipped up in there.  I gave explicit orders not to use my name.  I never thought that would be a problem coming from you."_

"I forgot," Jason shot back.  "It's hard to school myself not to use a name I've been using for years, especially since you won't give me the reason why not.  I'll ask you again, Brady.  Do you know the Blacks?"

Brady advanced, glowering at his friend as only he could do.  "And I told you before to mind your own damn business."

For his part, Jason was unintimidated.  He stood his ground admirably.  "Look, you're entitled to your secrets, Captain, the same as the rest of us.  But if you're putting a personal agenda before the good of the ship and crew, I think I have the right to know about it.  Somebody's got to keep you on track."

Brady turned away, trying to deny the justice of his first mate's arguments and unable to.  Finally, he groaned, turning back to Jason.  "You're right.  You have a right to know.  But what I say dies here.  Got it?"

Jason nodded, unable to believe he had actually been able to talk reason to Brady.  "You know you can trust me, Brady.  We're brothers of the sword, you and I."

The captain smiled, knowing Jason's weren't idle words.  Pirates could pledge fealty and change at a moment's notice, but such was not the case between them.  They had forged a true friendship in the midst of unimaginable circumstances.  "I trust you with my life, Jase.  In fact, I now trust you with the life of all my family."

"Family?" Jason repeated, dumbstruck.  Suddenly, revelation hit him.  "You're related to Lord Black somehow, aren't you?"

Brady nodded curtly.  "John Black is my father."

~~*~~

From her position concealed around the corner and behind a barrel, Jan bit back a gasp.  Lord Black was the father of the most notorious pirate in the Caribbean?  This kept getting better and better.  A cold smile adorned her lips as she pictured all the ways she could use this information.  Oh yes, life was very good to Jan Spears.


	9. Chapter Nine

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Nine**

He still remembered the first time he saw her.  Sunlight reflected off her dark curls, riotous even in the severe chignon, and made them shine the rich shades of autumn.  The brisk fall breeze made her cheeks glow with cold, and some hidden secret made her eyes sparkle even brighter.  He found himself wanting to know what made that soft smile cross over her face.  He found himself wanting to know everything about her.  In the company of two dour-looking elderly matrons, she was the radiant vision of youth and loveliness.  Her eyes met his, and in that moment of silent communion, they knew their fates were forever linked.

It didn't take long for Viscount John Black to learn the identity of this foreign visitor to his rural English county or to discover the reason she had been sent.  Isabella Toscano was the worst possible calamity to befall a notorious and powerful crime family—a girl with a conscience and a pure heart.  Afraid her strong views on right and wrong might interfere with the family business, she was sent to live with a distant cousin in a remote English village, where she would be kept safe from all trouble.

But the rebellious spirit could not be quenched by a mere change in location.  For within a year of her removal from home, the wayward Isabella had written home to announce her disavowal of the Catholic faith, her baptism into the Anglican church, and her upcoming marriage to an English lord by the name of John Black—all of which was done without her family's consent and in direct opposition to everything she'd been raised to believe.

John smiled at the memory of his fiery Italian love.  One who knew her less might well suspect she had done all this to spite her family, but such a person could not be more wrong.  Isabella had loved her family and grieved for her estrangement from them, but she had followed her heart always.  Her spirit told her John was the only man she would ever love, and nothing could deter her from being by his side.  That same inner guide had been repulsed by the blatant corruption of the Catholic church in its interference in matters of state and had sought out a faith based less in the affairs of this world and more with the next.  She was one of the most devout Christians John had ever met.  His own faith seemed paltry in comparison.

"Have faith," his IzzyB would say whenever the troubles of life got too much for him.  He would look deeply into her eyes, great pools of love, and he would be able to believe.  As long as he had her, he could believe that all the world would turn out right, that there was a God who loved him, that there was a purpose to his life.  Even if that purpose was simply to love her all his days, it would be more than enough.

He didn't believe anymore.  That tenuous faith was ripped from him the day he saw his wife and son—the love and light of his life—plunge beneath the cold ocean waves, never to rise again.  That memory still tortured him every moment of the day, waking or sleeping.  He could still remember blindly reaching out through the storm for any sign of them.  He could still hear her last words.  Like a whisper, they had come to him, though she must have shouted to be heard above the torrential rain and swirling waves.

"Have faith."

"What was that, Your Lordship?" Brady asked, as John unconsciously mouthed the words.  He had been watching his father for a long time, while John sat with closed eyes, a hundred emotions playing across his face.  More than anything, he wanted to know what thoughts came to John in his imprisonment.  Did he think of Belle in the cabin a few decks above?  Or his wife back home in England?  Or did he perhaps remember the firstborn he had lost and the woman who had borne him?  The same woman who had cried out for him with her last breath.

John started back to the present the moment the pirate spoke.  A mask of steel descended over his features as he hid his emotions, a mask more impenetrable than the physical one the boy in front of him donned.  "I said have faith," he returned coldly.  

The captain literally jumped, and the expressive blue eyes behind the mask became momentarily clear.  The viscount noticed the visible reaction of his captor.  "Is there something wrong, Captain?"

Brady willed himself to relax, to be as guarded in his words and actions as his father was in his.  After all, the words could mean nothing.  And even if they did indicate a connection to his mother, he still had a role to play.  "Not at all," he smoothly replied.  "I was simply wondering about your choice of words.  What do you have faith in?"

"His Majesty's Royal Navy, for one," John shot back without a moment's hesitation.  "I have faith you'll be caught and hanged for your crimes."

Brady laughed and offered a mocking bow.  "Anything to please, Your Lordship."

John eyed the insolent young man speculatively.  "You are an enigma, Captain.  I don't care for enigmas."

"I'm sorry you're vexed, m'lord, but I can hardly change who I am to suit your whim.  What kind of man would I be then?"  There was a sardonic edge to Brady's speech, planned perfectly to goad on the older man.

John arched an eyebrow at the captain's repartee.  "I almost have trouble believing the stories I've heard about you."

Brady laughed again.  The sound was cold, harsh, and brittle.  "Whoever believes everything they hear is a fool.  I have trouble believing you're such a man, m'lord."

"Well said," John returned approvingly.  "You could perhaps clear up these misconceptions by explaining who you really are.  What is your history?"

Brady shrugged, automatically tensing.  "Not one which would live up to the legend, I dare say.  What is it again?  Ah, yes.  I was branded by the Spanish, and it blackened my heart.  A nice summation, though highly figurative, of course."

Lord Black marveled at the pirate's cavalier attitude.  He was nothing like the ruthless murderer he had been expecting.  "Lofty words for a pirate.  You strike me as an educated man, Captain.  May I ask about your upbringing?"

Brady weighed the options in his mind, before deciding to speak a little, to see if John showed any signs of recognition.  He had to know what, if anything, his father knew about what happened to his mother and himself.  "Very well, Your Lordship.  If you must know, I was raised in a Spanish monastery."

"What?  How can that be?"  John looked at the man across from him in a new light.  He saw the burning rage in his cold blue eyes and felt hidden there was a world of pain as well.

The blue eyes didn't waver as Brady continued.  "Quite simply.  My mother was a prisoner of the Inquisitors.  They kept her locked up and tortured in a dungeon cell, while I was upstairs learning my catechism.  Ironic, no?"

John was appalled and suddenly pitied the bitter young man in front of him.  Something about him struck a chord deep in his heart.  "What happened to her?" he choked.  "Your mother, I mean."

"What happens to all heretics?" Brady spat.  "They killed her.  Not immediately, of course.  They are merciful, after all, the Spanish.  They gave her time to repent.  Years and years of time, half-starved and whipped for her sins.  The rack is a marvelous example of Spanish engineering.  The English could take a hint or two from them on what to do with us pirates."

"And that's why you became one," John concluded.

Brady nodded once, curtly.  "I heard her screams," he whispered, barely aware of John's presence as he was lost once again in the memory that haunted him.  "I heard her, but they wouldn't let me go.  Three priests held me back, but I broke free.  I ran down.  I knew the way.  I would sneak down late at night, just to be near her.  But that day…she was…"  His voice trailed off with a horror too deep for words, before he roused himself in a voice of quivering anger.  "And I swore on her grave that I would make them pay for what they did to her.  And so I shall.  Every last one."  His hand unconsciously strayed to his sword hilt.

John stared at this man lost in a sea of pain so deep as to make his own seem bearable and thanked God his own son had been spared such a fate.

~~*~~

"Dear God, when will it end?" Belle groaned weakly from the cot as the ship hit yet another wave.  The storm that had come upon them late that afternoon had brought her seasickness back with an even greater fury.

Mimi and Chloe exchanged worried glances over Belle's head.  Added to her already emotional state, this sickness seemed more frightening than the last.  She appeared small and insignificant lying in her chemise and covered only with blankets.  Her head lolled back and forth as she struggled to make it to the chamber pot before another round of heaving came upon her.  She was flushed with fever, and yet she shivered.

Chloe pulled Mimi over to the other side of the small cabin.  "Something is seriously wrong, isn't it?" she asked, correctly reading the anxious look on the normally fearless maid's face.

Mimi nodded, shoving back a lock of hair that had come loose in her tireless attendance of her mistress over the past several hours.  "She's spent, my la—Chloe.  She had barely begun to recover from her last illness.  I don't think she has the strength to fight it again."

Chloe glanced back to the bed, where Belle was writhing in uneasy sleep.  "All right," she breathed, trying to remain in control despite her worry for her friend.  "Here's what we'll do.  You look like you'll be sick yourself if you don't get out of these fetid quarters soon."  Seeing Mimi about to object, she rushed on.  "Not that I don't feel the same, but you took care of her the entire time she was sick on the _Dolphin, never left her side for a moment.  So now, I'll issue my one and only order to you, Mimi.  Get out.  Get some air.  Get some sleep.  Whatever you need.  You can relieve me in the morning."_

"No way," Mimi retorted instantly, crossing her arms defiantly and not caring about her insolence to a superior.  In cases like this, station in life didn't count for much.  "First of all, I promised Lord Black I would take care of her, so there is no way I would leave her now.  Add to that: how much experience do you have with treating invalids?"  Chloe's bowed head was all the answer she needed.  "See?  Belle needs me."

Chloe sighed in defeat.  "You win, Mimi.  I don't have the strength to argue with you now.  But please, at least take a minute to get some air.  I promise I'll do the same as soon as you get back.  This foul room can't be good for our health."  She wrinkled her nose as she said it, adding credence to her statement.

Mimi nodded her agreement.  "We can relieve that a little though.  I'll take the pot up with me and empty it now, while Belle's sleeping.  It should relieve the stench a bit."  

Chloe acquiesced, and the two girls went to work.  Chloe resumed her position by Belle's side, sponging wet cloths over her in an effort to bring down the fever.  Mimi hesitated for a moment, her eyes caressing her mistress with concern, before picking up her load and exiting the cabin.

~~*~~

He didn't mean to end up outside the cabin.  Lost in his thoughts, his feet took him there of their own accord.  He tried to convince himself it was simply habit.  After all, it was _his cabin.  His path had nothing to do with the goddess inside.  It had nothing whatsoever to do with his vague notion that she was the only one who could comfort him and heal his lifelong pain._

It wasn't the someone in his thoughts, but an entirely different feminine body that collided with him as he was rounding the corner.  She managed to balance the bucket she carried and right herself, quite a feat considering the rocking of the boat in the storm.  The auburn-haired maid gave another start as she looked up and her eyes collided with those of the dread pirate Blackheart of whom she'd heard such fearsome tales.  With a small gasp of surprise, she backed up and curtsied awkwardly before him, carefully averting her gaze.  "Captain."

Brady frowned.  He had yet to have a single experience with the girl who had been the cause of such controversy between his father and his first mate.  Come to think of it, Jason had taken a rather protective interest in the maid since the moment they had boarded the _Dolphin.  For an instant, he debated mentioning the subject to his friend but decided against it.  His own behavior with Lady Wesley would bear little scrutiny.  "Mistress," he bowed in return.  He didn't add her name.  He honestly couldn't remember it._

Mimi sensed that but took it as a good sign.  The further she was from the captain's scrutiny, the safer she would feel.  "I beg your pardon," she added, hoping he would take the hint and let her continue on her way.  Instead, the pirate continued to stare at her in a perplexed manner, as if she was a puzzle he had to decipher.  She felt her face flame with an unpleasant embarrassment, far from the strange but sweet sensations Jason's looks afforded her.  

"Is something wrong, Mistress?" Brady asked finally.  She had lines of worry upon her young face, and she looked hassled and frightened.  

Mimi's head shot up, her green eyes locking once more with his deep blue ones.  How could he know?  The pirate was far too observant about people for her own comfort.  "Nothing you need concern yourself with, Captain.  My mistress is ill, that is all."

The blue eyes flamed, and Brady approached her, grabbing her arms.  "Lady Wesley?" he demanded.

Mimi tensed the moment he touched her.  She felt vulnerable when faced with his menace…and yet she sensed something else in him too.  Something remarkably like fear.  "No, Captain.  Lady Black."

Brady abruptly let her go but reeled backwards, as if he'd been struck.  "Isabelle," he murmured to himself.  "Is she all right?  What's the matter?"

"She will be fine, I hope, Captain," Mimi said, bewildered at the strange emotions the pirate was expressing.  "She was seasick before on the _Dolphin.  It eventually went away, but…"_

"But what?" 

Mimi bit her lip before continuing, afraid to voice her deepest fear.  "She is still so weak.  I worry…I worry she will not be able to weather this storm."  Captain Blackheart turned away, obscuring even what little she could see of his face.  She heard him inhale sharply and wondered not for the first time what secrets this man carried with him.  

Without turning back, Brady spoke to her, in a voice of deadly calm.  "Your mistress will not die.  I will return."  He walked away without so much as another word.

Mimi frowned, watching him go.  "He's a strange man," she mumbled, before shoving him out of her thoughts.  She had been gone from Belle too long, and she had yet to even make it to the deck.  Fighting her way against the rolling of the ship, she climbed the ladder and entered the biting rain.  The cold, harsh wind felt like heaven on her fevered face, and she ignored its pull as she struggled to the rail, quickly dispensing of her burden.  

She halted a few moments, letting the cool liquid wash away her stress for a moment.  The swells of the ocean rose about the _Vengeance, and yet she wasn't afraid.  She could see the crew rushing about, all so sure in their duties.  They were safer aboard this ship than they would have been on any merchant vessel in the Caribbean.  She felt only a serene calm settle over her in the midst of the wild storm.  As the water drenched her thick Spanish gown, making it even heavier, she felt her spirit grow light.  Something about the sea called to her, telling her she was under its protection.  _

Reluctantly, and only when Belle's face surfaced in her memory, Mimi turned to make her way below deck, the now empty bucket still clutched in her hand.  She fought her way back to the hatch and stumbled down the stairs.  It was only once she had reached the end of the first passageway she became aware of someone following her.  Her heart in her throat, she listened to the sound of footsteps.  They sounded threatening, unlike the steady gait of both Jason and the captain.

Forcing herself to remain in control, she continued on, afraid to look behind her and confirm her suspicions.  If she could only make it to the cabin, she would be safe.  Only two more passages to safety.  She wished she had brought a lamp to guide her along the dark path.  There was a lamp outside the cabin door, but the rest of the way was black.  She had learned to feel her way along the passages, but she was suddenly aware of taking a wrong turn.  

To turn back would mean confronting her stalker, if such he was, and she couldn't bring herself to do that.  She could only pray that the way she had chosen would lead her right eventually.  She stumbled along, becoming increasingly disoriented as she took first one turn and then another.  Unbidden, a cry of fright rose inside her, but she squashed it down.  Better not to alert the man that she was aware of his presence.  

One last turn brought her to an impasse.  She felt in vain for a way out.  Only solid wood met her fingers.  The footsteps behind her grew louder.  Summoning all her resolve, she turned to meet this threat head-on.  Within moments, a tall, burly man stood before her.  She could see no more than the vaguest outline in the blackness.  But she could smell on him the reek of alcohol and sweat.  He was breathing heavily, and his breath was foul, causing her to cringe.  

There was no way around him, and she clutched the bucket tightly in her hands. It was the only weapon she had.  "Who are you?" she demanded, hoping her voice didn't shake.

"Never you mind that, honey," the man leered, coming even closer to her.  His hands reached for her, but she pushed even further back into the wall.  "No need to be like that, girl.  We're only gonna have some fun.  You'll like it, you'll see."  This time, Mimi had no place to hide as his hands reached out to grab her arms in a way that made her wish she was still being interrogated by Captain Blackheart.

"Don't touch me," she ordered, managing to find some small measure of authority in her voice as she tried to slip out of his drunken gasp.  "Your captain ordered that we were to be unharmed.  I have a feeling you would not want to risk his displeasure."

The man laughed as his hands began roving over her, his large form pinning her to the wall.  "Cap'n don' mind much of anythin' lately.  Too busy with that prisoner o' his.  And that high-born wench.  Mighty hard time he'd have tellin' us not to touch, when he's takin' some for hisself.  I had enough o' it, I say.  A pretty lass like you makes a man's fear kinda melt away."

And then his mouth was trying to claim hers, as his big, greasy hands ripped and grabbed at her clothing.  Mimi pushed down her revulsion and tried to focus on getting away.  This wasn't the first time she'd been accosted by a drunken sailor, and it wouldn't be the last.  She knew how to take care of herself.  The moment he abandoned his grip on her, presumably to drop his own pants, she swung out with the bucket, colliding with his ribs and being rewarded by a grunt of pain.

"You bitch!" he howled.  "I'll make you—"

But whatever he was going to make her, he never got the chance.  While he was still recovering from her first blow, Mimi raised her knee and made direct contact with his groin.  Cursing, he doubled over, and Mimi ran past him, intent on escape.  She might have made it had she not tripped over her own voluminous skirts.  She scrambled for her feet, but strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back towards her attacker.  With a cry of fury, he pummeled her back to the ground, his fist making contact with her cheekbone.

Mimi screamed, seeing her only chance in rescue now, but he quickly silenced her as a hand clamped over her mouth.  She felt his solid body lower on top of her and tried to think of a way to fight back.  She had none.  He was just too strong.  As his mouth railed curses down on her, spitting venom beyond his mere breath, his other hand had made its way beneath her many layers of clothing and was shoving them back.

"This coulda been good," he told her, as he pulled down his breeches.  "Now, I gotta show you who's boss."

"I could have sworn that was me," a droll voice sounded from behind him.

Mimi had never been more grateful for anyone in her life as she was in that moment for Jason Masters.  The weight pinning her down was suddenly removed as the pirate got to his feet, awkwardly trying to bring his pants over his obvious erection.  Mimi stood and turned away, humiliated and ashamed, as she pushed down her skirts and tried to make some order of her appearance.

"I dinna mean no harm, Jase," the sailor tried desperately to explain.  "But a man's got needs, and it ain't nat'ral havin' all these wenches on board and not bein' able to touch 'em.  Come on, Masters, you must've tried 'em yourself—"

"Enough!" Jason roared, in a swift move pinning the other man against the wall, his cutlass to the pirate's throat.  Mimi felt a slight wave of satisfaction at seeing her assailant so overpowered.  "You touch this woman—or any of the others—again, and I will kill you myself.  You so much look in her direction, and I will hang you from the yardarm.  Not by your toes, but by another, more painful body part."  His cruel smile was apparent even in the dim light as his sword lowered momentarily for added emphasis.  "You know better than to think I'm joking, Winters."

"Oh, I promise, Masters," the drunken pirate sniveled.  Mimi nearly laughed to see him turned into such a coward at a few mere words from Jason.  "I won' touch the lady again.  No, sir.  She's yours, sir.  I get it."

"I'm not his!" Mimi's virtue and pride made her interject.  "I am no man's to claim."

Jason gritted his teeth at her obstinate nature.  "Now is not the time to insert your independence, Mimi," he warned, before turning his full attention back to the wretch before him.  "Yes, Winters, she's mine.  So you can tell all your friends she is off-limits on pain of death.  Understood?  She is touched, harmed, or harassed in any way, and the person responsible answers to me."

"Yes, sir.  See?  No problems with us.  No harm done."

"Get lost," Jason sneered, before giving the pirate a shove in the opposite direction of the passageway from Mimi.  "And sober up."

"Yes, sir," the man babbled on as he backed up, his hands raised in surrender.  "I'm getting' lost.  You'll see.  I can get lost better than anybody."  In a few more seconds, he turned tail and ran.

Traces of silver light drifted through the porthole, as the moon came out from behind a cloud.  Jason was illuminated to her for the first time since coming to her rescue.  He had turned towards her, and the look on his face was surprisingly gentle.  

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly, though he refrained from stepping towards her.  The poor girl had been given enough frights tonight.

"I'm…I'm fine," Mimi stammered, trying to regain her senses.  Her heart still pounded in her chest, and she was all too conscious of her flushed cheeks and torn dress.  "Thanks to you.  If you hadn't come when you did…"  She couldn't finish the thought.  Tears threatened to spill out of her emerald eyes, brilliant in the moonlight.  Her shoulders shook as she tried to suppress her sobs.

Sure now that his interference could not possible make her any more upset than she already was, Jason moved to comfort her.  In a few short steps, he had closed the gap between them and wrapped her tightly in his arms.  She collapsed against him, strangely unafraid, and let the tears begin to flow.  "Shh," he soothed, running a hand through her hair, which had been freed from its upsweep in her struggle with the pirate.  He buried his hand in the rich, silky feel of her wet hair and murmured words solace to her.  "It's all right, Mimi.  You're safe now.  No one's going to hurt you.  I'll make sure of it."

Mimi let herself rest in his arms for untold minutes while she cried.  She cried for the stress of the past few days, the worry for her mistress, the fear of the night.  She cried for a world where men would always feel they had a right to use her.  She cried for a life with no rights at all.  None of this would be told to Jason, of course.  Even if she could have found the words, she would never confide in him.  But she felt safe in his embrace, protected from all the harshness of life.  Nothing and no one could hurt her while she was in Jason's arms.

Eventually, her sobs quieted, and she pulled back, once again embarrassed.  She ruthlessly brushed aside the last few remnants of her tears.  "I'm sorry," she mumbled, averting her face.  

Jason tipped her chin, cupping her soft skin and forcing her puffy-eyed gaze to his own.  "You never have to apologize for the way you feel, Mimi.  Not to me.  It's all right to be afraid, but you're safe now.  No one will bother you the rest of the time you're aboard the _Vengeance.  I pledge myself for your honor."_

She looked up at him in confusion, remembering his words to the pirate Winters.  "You claimed me," she spoke, without her earlier anger but with a great deal of confusion.  "Why?  I mean, what…what does that mean…?  Well, I know what it means, but did you mean…?  I mean—"

"Mimi, it's all right," Jason reassured her, his hands moving to rest lightly on her shoulders.  "I'm sorry if you were offended, but you have to understand the laws of the Brethren to comprehend what that will mean to the rest of the crew.  Suffice it to say, no one will touch you again."

"Because they think you are," Mimi finished miserably, shrugging away from his touch.  "I'm not a fool, Jason.  I know what it means.  I just meant…did you really claim me, or was it merely for my protection?"

Jason eyed the girl in front of him, his gaze traveling from her frightened, yet desire-filled eyes down the length of her trembling body and up again to her moist and tempting lips.  Despite himself, he couldn't help running his thumb along her bottom lip and seeing the longing deepen in her.  Her body was betraying her at his first touch, but still he sensed her trepidation and forced himself to drop his touch.  "I will protect you, Mimi.  And I will never lay a hand on you until you give me your permission."

Her eyes widened in surprise.  Was he saying what she thought he was saying?  "I…I, um, I thank you, Jason," she stumbled as she tried to get her equilibrium back.  "But I won't…I will never—there are things I would never do, and you, well, you're a pirate.  Once I get off this ship, if I get off this ship, I will never see you again.  And I won't…I won't be that kind of woman."  Her words were hesitant, but her tone was firm as she finished.  She had made her choice long ago, and she would not go back on it now, simply because of a pair of strong arms that made her feel safe and a pair of green eyes that made her weak.

~~*~~

Chloe bit her lip as she watched Belle thrash helplessly on the bed, whimpering.  She was obviously in the midst of some horrible nightmare, and try as she might, Chloe was unable to wake her.  She shoved back her long braid and bent over her gravely ill friend, once again wiping the sweat from her brow.  It was all she could do to ease her suffering.  She felt so helpless.  She wished Mimi would return.  Mimi had been right.  She wasn't equipped to handle this all by herself.

"Shawn," Belle whispered brokenly.  The word sounded more like a sob than anything else.

"It's all right, Belle," Chloe soothed, taking her friend's limp hand in hers.  "Shawn's all right.  He'll be here as soon as he can.  He's coming for you, Belle.  Shawn loves you.  Just wait for him.  You have to wait for him."  She wasn't sure if Belle understood or not, but she seemed to sleep quieter after that.  

The minutes dragged by like years, and still Mimi did not return.  "Where is she?" Chloe mumbled as she paced the small room.  Belle seemed to be slipping farther away all the time.  Her breathing was shallow, and she didn't even have the strength to move under the bed sheets anymore.  "Please, God, let her pull through.  Let her get better, Lord.  I don't know what I'd do without her.  She's my best friend."  Chloe felt tears start into her eyes but shoved them back.  It wouldn't do for Belle to wake and see her crying.

A pounding on the door brought her a moment of hope.  "Mimi?" she cried hopefully as she flung it open.  But her welcoming smile abruptly died as she saw it wasn't Mimi on the other side.  Her cheeks, on the other hand, visibly flushed, even in the dim light of the lamp.  

"Sorry to disappoint, Lady Wesley," came the sardonic response as the captain offered a small bow in greeting.  Yet Chloe thought he looked tenser and more serious than she had yet seen him.  "I wish to inquire after Lady Black."

"How did you know she was ill?" Chloe demanded, still blocking the doorway.  She didn't think Belle would appreciate having the pirate who frightened her so much present at her sickbed.

"Her maid told me, but that is highly unimportant right now.  May I see her?"  Without waiting for an answer, Brady brushed by her, refusing to notice how appealing she looked by lamplight, her hair and dress a rumpled mess.  The untidiness suited her somehow.  But he couldn't think of Chloe right now.  He had to concentrate on his sister.  

It was the first time he had been close to her since the ride to the _Vengeance.  She looked even frailer now than she had then, and then he had thought of her as porcelain, easily broken.  Now, she was on the verge of being shattered.  Dismissing Chloe from his consciousness entirely, he knelt beside the thin cot and felt her clammy forehead.  He put his head to her chest and listened to her heart and breathing rhythms.  "How long has she been like this?" _

Chloe watched in utter confusion.  What could he possibly be doing?  "Um…since the storm mostly.  But she hasn't been well for a long time.  The sea doesn't agree with her."

A sad smile flashed across the pirate's face for the barest instant before it was gone.  "Yes, solid ground for Bella, I think.  Shawn will have to rethink his career path."

"Does that mean Belle will be all right?" Chloe asked anxiously, grabbing on to the glimmer of hope in his flippant remark and ignoring all the questions that came with it.  

"I wouldn't stop praying, Lady Wesley," he responded, getting back to his feet and turning to face her again.  Blue clashed with blue as they tried to discern just how deep the other's concern went for the earthly angel lying on the bed.  Finally satisfied, Brady headed for the door.  "I need to go to the galley for a moment.  I'll be right back.  Try to keep her as comfortable as possible until I get back."

Chloe could only stand by in annoyance as Captain Blackheart left with the same flourish he had entered.  Like she hadn't been doing that for hours before he showed up?  With an impatient stamp of her foot and shake of her head, she turned back to Belle, hardly expecting the pirate to follow through on his promise.  Yet only minutes passed before he returned, this time carrying a steaming mug of some foul-smelling brew.  "What's that?"

"It will help her, assuming she can keep it down," Brady commented curtly, indicating she should move aside.

Too stunned to do anything but obey, Chloe observed as the masked man sat on the edge of the cot and gently lifted Belle into a semi-sitting position, ignoring her whimper of protest.  He settled her back onto his broad chest and carefully spooned out a small portion of the liquid, bringing it to Belle's parched lips.  "There's a girl," he encouraged her softly, as she swallowed her first sip.  Slowly, each drink a seeming torture, he helped Belle down the strange mixture.  

Chloe wearily sank onto the only chair in the room, the exhaustion of the day catching up to her.  She continued to watch for some time as the multi-faceted murderer revealed yet another aspect of his personality in his loving attention to her friend.  The last thing she heard before she drifted off to sleep was his deep, caressing voice as he assured Belle that everything would be all right.  And strangely, she knew it would be.


	10. Chapter Ten

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Ten**

The warm morning rays finally chased the clouds away and shone down on the ragtag group crowded into the small cabin.  Brady's eyes blinked open first, although he had been the last to shut them, merely an hour before.  He looked first at his sister, finally sleeping peacefully.  Her fever had broken with the storm, and now she rested contentedly in his arms.  He smiled and stroked some of the baby-fine blonde hair off her face.  Despite the fact he had been unaware of her existence three months previously, he loved this fragile woman enough to die for her.  He would protect her from all harm.

Such thoughts made him glance across the room to where Chloe still slept in the hard chair.  Brady frowned.  He should have at least covered her with a blanket, but his worry had been all for Belle last night. He watched the even rise and fall of Chloe's bodice and the way her dark hair flowed in waves over her shoulders. It was the first time he had been able to observe the lady without her awareness of it.  She looked young and innocent as she slept, and he cursed himself for finding that appealing.

The sound of a throat being cleared brought Brady's attention sharply away from Chloe and to the late-comers of their little assembly.  Sitting propped against the wall, Jason was watching him with amusement and disapproval while Mimi Lockhart's head rested on his shoulder as she slept.  They had entered the room in the early hours of the morning, due to Mimi's worry for her mistress.  She had been shocked to find her lady attended by the captain, but eventually both she and Jason had succumbed to their exhaustion.

Now, Brady found he wasn't the only one awakened by the sun.  "What?" he mouthed ill-humoredly to his first mate as Jason's accusatory stare burned into him.

Jason jerked his head towards the door and then slowly began to extricate himself without waking Mimi.  Sighing, Brady followed suit, gently lifting Belle and placing her back onto the cot.  She didn't stir.  By the time he turned around, Jason was waiting for him by the open door.  Brady led the way out, bracing himself for an unpleasant confrontation.  He waited until Jase closed the door before rounding on him with a defensive, "What?"

Jason didn't answer for a moment as he considered his friend.  His calm demeanor was in direct contrast to Brady's already riled state.  "You need to watch yourself around that girl.  She's going to get you into trouble."

Brady snorted derisively.  "That's why you called me out here, to give me relationship advice?"

"I don't care what you do with your personal time, Brady.  We've both had our share of women, and it's never been an issue.  But you've got to let this one go.  Need I list the reasons why?"

Brady's jaw clenched at Jason's superior tone.  He knew all the reasons: his promise to his father, her engagement to a business rival, their precarious position when Shawn caught up to them.  But he'd be damned before he let his first mate lecture him, especially given Jason's current situation with his sister's maid.  "I wouldn't be so quick to judge, Jase.  You've already shown too great an interest in Belle's maid."

"Mimi," Jason returned just as fiercely.  "That's different, and you know it.  We're not going to be hanged over the virtue of a serving maid—not that I've touched her.  I have too much respect for her.  But you know I'm right.  I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at Lady Wesley.  It's got to stop now, Brady, before it goes—"

"It hasn't gone anywhere," Brady exploded.  "And it's not going to.  I have enough to worry about on this trip without bringing a troublesome woman into the equation."

Jason knew he had overstepped his bounds and backed away from the topic.  "What about your family?" he questioned instead. "Have you told them yet?"

"No, and I'm not sure I'm going to."

Jason frowned at Brady's curt tone.  "I don't understand, Brady.  Wasn't the whole point behind taking the _Dolphin to let you meet your family?  What's the matter now?"_

"First of all, the reason we took the _Dolphin was to stop an English ambassador from being murdered by the Spanish.  My personal motivations come second."  Brady sighed as he once again thought of his predicament.  When he began talking again, Jase had the distinct feeling his friend was sorting things out for himself more than he was explaining it to him._

"At first, I didn't tell him because to some extent I blamed my father for my mother's death.  Now I see he clearly had no idea we survived the storm.  So what would be the point in telling them?  Simply to relieve my burden?  My father would have to grieve for her all over again.  My sister probably doesn't even know I exist.  The entire family's reputation would be destroyed by the relation to a wanted pirate."

Jason reflected for a moment.  "That's all true.  I can't deny it.  But on the other hand, you deserve a family, Brady.  Your father and sister deserve to have you in their lives."

"What if they don't want me?"  Brady spoke angrily, but the words voiced his deepest fear.  "You've heard them.  We're murdering pirates.  Who would want to be related to a man like me?"

"Brady, I don't think—"

"No," Brady cut him off.  "Enough.  What right do you have to speak to me about family?  When was the last time you spoke to yours?"

Jason's hand was on his sword hilt instantly.  "Don't you dare bring them into this!  You don't know half of what they've done to me."  He actually looked ready to draw sword against his captain and best friend.

For his part, Brady seemed unperturbed by the change in his first mate.  Truth be told, this was exactly the reaction he'd wanted.  "What's the matter, Jase?" he taunted.  "You've suddenly decided to intrude into my past after all this time.  Why can't I do the same?"

Jason smiled ruefully, his rage failing as he realized Brady had led him into a trap—and he'd been foolish enough to fall into it.  "Point taken, Captain.  Consider the subject dropped."

"Good.  Now, onto more important matters.  Shouldn't you be relieving Kev's guard of Lord Black right now?"

"Aye, Captain," Jason returned respectfully.  Even his insolence only went so far.

~~*~~

Belle blinked her eyes open slowly, cat-like, as a small smile crossed her face.  "Papa?" she breathed.

Mimi was by her side in a moment, the merest sound from her mistress's lips enough to awaken her.  Chloe wasn't far behind.  "What is it, my lady?  How are you feeling?"

Lady Black looked up at her friends in bewilderment.  "What are you two doing here?  Where's my father?"  She attempted to sit up and survey the room, but Mimi restrained her.

"My lady, you've been ill.  We were afraid you would not survive.  You must have been delusional in your fever, for you father is still held elsewhere in the ship."

Belle frowned, shaking her head.  "No, he was here.  I'm not delusional.  I remember being sick.  I thought I was going to die.  But then Papa came and made me well.  I remember he held me and told me I was going to be all right, that he would protect me."

"That wasn't you father, Belle," put in Chloe.  "It was Captain Blackheart.  He took care of you all night long, and he gave you some drink that broke your fever."  

Mimi couldn't help but notice there was a trace of awe and something else in the lady's voice as she mentioned the mysterious captain.  With her usual observance, she detected some spark of feeling in Lady Chloe towards the captain she had never seen in her before.  Of course, she was hardly in a position to judge.  Her own feelings for Jason Masters were frighteningly powerful.  

"No."  Belle shook her head vehemently.  "I know my own father, Chloe.  He was here.  I looked into his eyes, blue as the sea.  It was my father's hands stroking my hair.  I felt the same safety I did when I was eight years old and Papa held me all night long because I had scarlet fever.  I knew I was going to get well because my father would never let anything hurt me."

"But how could that—"  Chloe's words came to an abrupt halt, and her face went white.  Mimi and Belle watched her curiously as a thousand emotions crossed her face in an instant.  As suddenly as the state had come upon her, it was gone.  Her expression was carefully wiped clean, and she continued to speak as though she'd never stopped.  "—be?  Your father was down in his cell all night long.  As a matter of fact, when the captain returns, ask him to bring us to your father.  You can see for your own eyes."

"Is everything all right, my lady?" Mimi asked as she noticed the still preoccupied look on Chloe's face.  "You don't look well."

"Everything's fine, Mimi…except you have to stop calling me 'my lady' all the time."  There was a forced quality to her cheerfulness, and rather than opening herself up to more questions, Chloe turned to the lone mirror in the cabin and began trying to make some order of her rumpled appearance.

Mimi turned to Belle, a question in her eyes.  Belle shrugged.  She had never understood how Chloe's mind worked.  Why should today be any different?

At that moment, the cabin door swung open, and the intimidating captain stood before them.  Chloe, who had undoubtedly spent more time hitherto studying him than the other two, nonetheless watched him with shrewd eyes.  His tall, muscular frame, broad shoulders and narrow hips.  The classic features, strong jaw, and above all, the blue eyes.  She surveyed him from head to toe, searching for—and finding—striking similarities to Lord John Black.

"How are you feeling this morning, my lady?" he was asking Belle when Chloe forced herself to pay attention to the conversation.

Belle practically cowered before him.  This was her first encounter with the captor where she was required to speak, and she found him terrifying.  She pulled the blankets up to her chin modestly.  She couldn't believe any man had the indecency to enter a lady's room without knocking.  Her reputation would be ruined forever.  No man was supposed to see a lady in her petticoat unless he was her husband—and Belle wasn't entirely sure it was allowed even then.

Seeing her mistress incapable or unwilling to speak, Mimi spoke for her.  "She's much better, Captain.  Thanks to you."  Her own gratitude colored her words.  The formerly terrifying man had increased a hundred fold in her esteem since she had been witness to his ministrations on Belle's behalf.  Anyone who could care for her mistress with such gentleness could not be all bad, she decided.

The captain shook his head, frowning.  "Don't thank me.  If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't be in this position in the first place.  I wish—"  He stopped, apparently believing he'd said to much.  "Is there anything I can for you ladies?  Your breakfast should be brought to you shortly."

"Is it true?" Belle surprised them all by asking.

"Beg your pardon?  Is what true?" the pirate queried in return.  His manners were perfect, Mimi discovered.  If not for the telltale mask, clothes, and cutlass, he could have passed for English royalty.

"Did you…did you make me better?" she squeaked out, still hiding under her blankets.

A surprisingly soft smile crossed the hard man's face before being purposely erased.  "Only God heals, my lady.  I merely administered the necessary medical aid."

"So then…I owe you my life."  A frown marred the sweet young features as she considered being in the debt of a murderer.  She didn't believe her mother would approve at all.  And what would Shawn say…assuming she ever saw him again?

"You owe me nothing, lady.  As I said before, I am responsible for your jeopardy.  I am pleased to see you well, but do not waste your gratitude on me.  I wish to assure your comfort for the duration of your stay; that is all."

"She'd be more comfortable if she saw her father," Chloe interjected hastily, drawing the attention of all in the room.  She silently cursed herself for blushing the moment his piercing gaze settled on her, but she couldn't seem to stop that reaction.  At least she didn't faint this time.  It took her a moment to collect herself, but she persevered.  "We were discussing that before you entered, Captain.  Belle would feel more secure if she was assured of the safety of Lord Black."

He frowned, envisioning all the difficulties inherent in such a visit.  "I'm not sure—"

"Oh please," Belle added her please, turning her watery blue eyes on him.  "I know I'm strong enough, and we'll follow any rules you give us.  But please, let me see my father…"

~~*~~

Two hours later, having dressed and breakfasted, the two ladies and their maids—Jan emerged form the second cabin only when food had arrived and expressed no apology for her long absence—were on their way into the hull of the ship to see Lord John Black, with Captain Blackheart and Kev Lambert as their guides and protectors.  Respectfully, Mimi stayed towards the rear of the entourage, only Kev trailing behind her.  

As always, she studied the behavior of those around her, making copious mental notes.  The masked captain walked beside her mistress, offering her his arm for support.  Strangely, Belle seemed to trust him.  She was placing most of her weight on his strong shoulders.  Chloe walked on Belle's other side when the passageways permitted and a little behind when they were too narrow.  Yet her eyes seemed glued to the pirate with a strange, suspicious fascination.  Jan, on the other hand, strode a little in front of Mimi, her eyes glaring lethal daggers at both her lady and the captain.  Mimi frowned.  She should keep a better watch on Jan.  She had been disappearing far too often since their abduction.  It didn't make sense.

They finally arrived to the makeshift prison Mimi had stumbled across the day before.  Jason, forewarned of their visit, stood waiting at the door of the cell.  He bowed and allowed the ladies to enter.  It would have been impossible for all of them to fit inside the small room.  In the end, Belle, Chloe, and Blackheart approached John's prison, while the rest waited outside the open door, silent and listening intently.  Mimi studiously avoided Jason's gaze, even though he stood so close to her she was warmed by his solid body.

Despite her still fragile state, Belle flew to her father's side, her small, soft hands enclosing his on the bars.  "Papa!  Are you all right?  Have they hurt you?  Have they beaten you?  Are you getting enough to eat?"

John chuckled at his daughter's needless concern for him.  "I'm fine, sweetheart.  You never need to worry about me.  They're taking admirable care of this old man.  But you've been ill."  His astute eyes took in her wasted form, and he cursed again the cruel fate that would bring his remaining child to this.  "You shouldn't have come here.  You need your rest."

"I could not possibly have really rested without seeing you, Father.  Besides, I feel better seeing you than I could if I slept for a hundred years.  And I'm quite recovered today.  Apparently, the captain gave me something which saved my life."  She dared one small, grateful smile at the grim-faced man.

John followed her gaze with a wary one of his own.  "You saved my daughter's life?"

The captain's stern expression did not change.  His arms were still crossed against his chest, the white, billowing sleeves of his Holland shirt in direct contrast to the black mask obscuring his face.  "I promised Your Lordship the ladies would be safe.  I never go back on my word."

Though she spoke not a word, Chloe watched the interchange with interest, observing every look that passed between the men.  There was a wary trust between them, a mutual strength.  If the bond went deeper than that, she could not tell, but there was something about the two that jumped out at her.  She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before.  Could it be…?  Could she actually be witnessing a reunion between Belle, her father, and the long lost Brady Black?

~~*~~

Mimi let out the last wire of the enormous petticoat so the garment fell against Lady Wesley's legs and pooled in yards at her feet.  During Belle's conversation with her father that morning, Mimi had finally remembered to ask Jason about needle, thread, and scissors for taking in the dresses.  Now, while Belle slept the afternoon away and Jan watched over her—though Mimi suspected it had more to do with avoiding sewing than any concern for Lady Black—Mimi was transforming the monstrously large Spanish dresses into something more manageable.  Chloe, out of sheer boredom, had agreed to help her.

"You've been uncharacteristically silent today.  Are you sure nothing is troubling you?"

Chloe grimaced at Mimi's unexpected comment.  The truth was her mind had been dwelling on Captain Blackheart all day long.  First she would contemplate the possibility of him being the presumed-dead heir of the Viscount.  Then her thoughts would rebelliously turn to how godlike he had been climbing that rigging, how strong his arms had been as he carried her, how intelligent his words had proven him, how gentle he had been with Belle, how cunning he had been with Captain Reed.  The list went on and on.  She was quickly becoming obsessed.

Chloe bit her lip.  She was well-known as the world's worst liar.  What could she tell Mimi that wouldn't give away such a humiliating truth?  "I…of course, I'm troubled.  Aren't you?  We're captives on a pirate ship, Mimi.  I believe we have a right to be troubled."

Mimi laughed aloud as she began cutting away the excess material.  "Do you honestly expect me to believe that, Chloe?  Let's face it.  You would be just as happy if we were never rescued."  Her face turned red the instant the words left her mouth.  She had overstepped her bounds, and she knew it.  This informality with Lady Wesley was making her too loose-tongued.  "I'm sorry, m'lady.  I didn't mean—"

"Mimi, calm down," Chloe stopped her frightened apology.  "I want us to be friends, so I'm certainly not going to hold what you say against you.  Besides, you're wiser than I used to give you credit for being.  You're wiser than most people I know.  You see through me.  You see through everyone, don't you?"  She smiled softly, feeling a burgeoning affection and respect for a girl she had previously dismissed as being nothing but Belle's little maid.

Mimi shook her head.  "That doesn't me the right to speak to you the way I did.  I forgot my place.  You're a lady, Chloe, whether you want to acknowledge all that means or not."

Chloe groaned and abruptly stepped out of the shorn pile of fabric at her feet, crossing the room restlessly.  "I'm not, Mimi.  Not in my blood, my temperament.  Not the way it counts, the way Belle is.  It's merely an accident of birth that I'm me and you're you.  As far as I'm concerned, you would make a much better lady than I do.  You would be far happier being one than I am, as well."  She momentarily stopped her pacing, giggling guiltily.  "Don't tell Belle, but when we were at school, on warm nights, I would sneak out, run to the lake, strip off all my clothes, and jump in naked.  I taught myself how to swim, Mimi."

Mimi's jaw dropped, and her cheeks turned even redder.  She expected that kind of wanton talk and behavior from people of her own class.  Hearing it from Lady Chloe Wesley was a different matter entirely.  "You should not say such things," she hissed.

Chloe sighed, flopping down on the cot.  "See?  That's what I mean.  You have as much virtue as Belle—maybe more.  She was raised to be like she is, but you have that goodness inside of you.  I don't have it.  From before I could read, I was taught right and wrong, what a lady should and should not be.  I was taught exactly as Belle was taught, yet there's something inside of me that refuses to be what I am expected to be.  What is wrong with me that I'm like this?"

The maid stared at the animated, almost feverish look on the other woman's face.  "It's just the heat, m'lady.  It's making you antsy, and you are saying things you don't mean."

"But I do mean them, Mimi," Chloe protested.  "I admit it may have something to do with the heat, and the ship, and the sea that is allowing me to express it now, but I've always felt this way.  Since I was a girl at school, and even before.  There's something wicked in my very blood.  And when we get to Jamaica, I am going to be bound forever to a man who wants to stifle me, who wants me to keep living this lie.  Why?  So I can raise another generation of children who spend more than they earn in an attempt to fill the void inside of them?  It's a void that comes from suppressing everything you are, ignoring everything that makes you different from the masses.  I don't want this emptiness anymore, Mimi.  I won't have it."

An almost devilish light came into Chloe's eyes and frightened Mimi with its defiance.  She watched as Chloe picked up a swath of discarded black fabric and folded it, tapping it against her hand.  "My lady, what is it?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"I'm not going to let them suffocate me," Chloe murmured, still staring down at the black satin in her hand.  "I am going to be free and to hell with the consequences."

Mimi turned away from the fiery lady, a look of sorrow and pity on her face.  In a voice so low she knew Chloe could not hear her, she whispered a benediction.  "Then may God have mercy on your soul."

~~*~~

Her bizarre conversation with Lady Wesley was still replaying itself in Mimi's mind as she retired for bed that evening.  Not wanting Jan to take her preoccupation as a wish for conversation, she turned towards the wall and pretended to sleep, all the while dissecting Chloe's words and finding her thoughts inexorably brought back to Jason Masters and her own feelings for him.  She tried to pull them straight, tried to remind herself that unlike Chloe Wesley, she had no desire to flout the laws of decency.  Yet Jason's green eyes and gentle, yet electrifying, touch kept arguing against her supposed morality.  

She was still fighting her internal battle when she heard a rustling to her side and the sound of shuffling feet.  Without turning around or stirring at all, she listened to Jan dress in the darkness.  Only once she heard the creak of the cabin door opening and closing did she sit up, wide awake.  Where on earth could that traitorous wench be going?  She grimaced as she imagined Jan sneaking off to warm some sailor's bed.  Yet something inside her bade her follow the other girl.  

Quickly, she rose and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders.  She didn't have time to waste dressing and instead pursued Jan out the door.  The glow of a lantern was fading around the corner, and Mimi followed behind at a safe distance.  Her bare feet made no noise on the wooden planks, and she looked as an unearthly being floating along in her white petticoat and light blue wrap.  She should have been more frightened, especially given her close call the night before, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew with Jason's claim on her no one would touch her.  

Always remembering to keep out of sight, Mimi trailed behind the dark-haired woman.  Jan seemed to know exactly where she was going, and Mimi soon realized she knew as well.  This was the same path they had taken earlier that day.  It led down into the hull of the ship.  Could Jan be going to visit Lord Black?  But why?  Was there perhaps something else down this corridor?  Perhaps the galley was here or—more likely, Mimi mused—crew quarters.  

Jan's footsteps came to a sudden halt, and Mimi stepped back into the shadows, her ears pricking up to listen.  She was astonished to discover the cool tones of Jason Masters.

"What are you doing out of your cabin so late, Jan?" Jason barked.  From her hiding place, Mimi grinned.  Obviously, this was not Jan's intended meeting.  She also couldn't help but notice the difference in the pirate's tone when talking to the cunning vixen than the kind way he spoke to her.  

"I was looking for the galley, sir," Jan replied smoothly.  There was not a moment's hesitation in her voice, and if Mimi knew her less, she might have believed her.  

"You're going in entirely the wrong direction then, mistress.  At any rate, all the cupboards have been locked at this late hour.  Breakfast will be served in the morning.  Until then, I suggest you return to your cabin at once.  I cannot vouch for your safety wandering the ship alone at night."

"That is strange, sir, seeing as you had no problems protecting Mimi when she was in the same predicament only last night."  Jan's words were filled with venom, barely covered with a sugary innocence.  "But I suppose we can't all expect to be claimed by such an honorable man as you.  Tell me, who is to have the right to me?  The captain has already taken my mistress.  You've had your way with Mimi.  Who's next in line?"

"I suggest you watch your filthy tongue, Jan.  Vicious slander might win you esteem with your employer, but it is hardly going to earn you friends aboard the _Vengeance."_

"My employer, sir?"  

"Do not underestimate my intelligence, Mistress Spears.  I am well aware you work for Philip Kiriakis, and not Lady Wesley.  Report your gossip to him when you see him again, but in the meantime, consider yourself deaf and dumb.  And bound to quarters."

"You cannot be serious, sir," Jan protested.  "If the others are allowed free range aboard ship, I should be given the same privilege."

"You have abused that privilege.  The only way you could have known about Mimi's attack last night was if you were watching.  You're a spy, Jan.  A petty one, of course.  Everything and everyone involved with Kiriakis is petty.  But still, I will not have you running heedlessly about this ship, stumbling across information that is none of your business.  From now until your return to Port Royal, I do not want to see your face again.  You are to be in one of the two cabins or in attendance of the ladies at all times.  If I do see you wandering anywhere without supervision, I will have you locked in the hull for the remainder of the voyage.  Do I make myself quite clear?"

Mimi barely restrained a cry of joy at Jan's well-deserved punishment.  Oh, what she wouldn't give to see Jan's face at that moment!  "Fine, sir.  Although if I am being sentenced for an eavesdropping crime—of which you have no proof—you might as well administer the same justice on Mimi Lockhart, given that she is hiding right around the corner."

Cursing her own stupidity for thinking she could remain unnoticed, Mimi deserted her hiding place and emerged into the light—and Jason's view.  She refused to look at him however and kept her scathing glance on Jan Spears' smug face.  "I freely admit to following you, Jan, but only because I don't trust you.  I know as well as Jason does that you are more trouble than you're worth.  I know you're lying about the galley, Jan.  Where were you actually headed?"

Jan kept her lips tightly pursed and refused to say a word to the other woman.  Her gaze remained locked on Jason's face.  "If you'll excuse me," she gritted out, "I've been ordered to my cabin.  I'll leave you two to…whatever."  Her glance shifted over to Mimi for the first time, giving her a derisive once-over.  She roughly pushed past her and back the way she had come.

Jason carried a light of his own, which he placed carefully down on a hook in the ship's wall, before turning to inspect Mimi's appearance.  He found her state of undress enticing, though he tried not to show it.  The shawl had fallen off one of her shoulders and trailed behind her on the ground.  Her hair was loose, and the light of the lantern shone upon it, making it shine like burnished bronze.  The petticoat, freshly void of its cumbersome hoops, fell in a graceful outline of her voluptuous body.  The material was damn near invisible in the strange light, and he forced his gaze back up to her angelic face, now blushing crimson under his perusal.

"Jan was right about one thing, Mimi.  You shouldn't be out of bed this time of night.  My protection counts for only so much, given the temptation you present."

Her cheeks flamed even more, and she yanked the shawl tightly around her upper body, wishing for nothing more than to turn and flee.  "I'm sorry, Jason.  It won't happen again.  I heard Jan leave, and it made me suspicious so I followed her.  I wasn't thinking."

"No, you weren't."  His tone was sharper than he intended, a reaction to the effect she was having on him.  He sighed, running a hand back through his hair to gain control of his emotions.  "Look, you have to realize these are not the kind of men you've been around before.  They're used to taking what they want, and they—"

"Stop with the lectures, all right?" Mimi exploded.  "I know exactly what kind of men they are.  I've been around men like you all my life.  I know what you want, and how you get what you want.  And I sure as hell know how to keep you from getting what you want."

Jason frowned, surprised and concerned by her outburst.  "Mimi, I don't know what you think, but I'm not like them.  I'm not about to…that is to say, I would never…"

"Spare me.  Unless you can stand here before me, look me in the eyes and tell me you have never been with a woman, then you have no right to separate yourself from them."  She paused, and Jason averted his eyes guiltily.  "See?  But what, I'm supposed to feel like it's different with me?  That what you feel for me is different than what you felt for the other women you have been with?  I am not a fool, Jason."

"I never thought you were, Mimi.  I would never think that.  But what I feel for you _is different, whether you believe it or not.  That said, I have no intentions of taking advantage of you.  I told you last night I won't touch you until you give me your permission."_

"Of course you did," Mimi retorted cynically.  "Because you think eventually you will wear me down.  Trust me I have seen it all before.  Maybe you're right, but I hope to God you're not.  I refuse to be like her, damn it!  I refuse."

Jason's frown deepened to one of confusion.  Mimi did not even seem aware of the words that had left her mouth.  She was still a pillar of righteous indignation before him.  Why was she still so attractive?  "Like who, Mimi?" he asked quietly.

"What?"  Mimi's face echoed his own confusion.  

"You said you refuse to be like her.  Who is 'her?'  Who were you talking about?"

Mimi's eyes widened, and she turned away, refusing to let him see her guilt and shame.  "No one," she mumbled.

"Obviously, you meant someone, Mimi," Jason prompted.  Without thinking, he crossed the short distance between them and rested his hands on her shoulders, turning his around to face him.  Still, she would not meet his eyes.  He tipped up her chin, demanding her honesty.  "Who, Mimi?"

She shrugged her shoulders, hoping to shrug him off as well.  It didn't work.  He continued to silently challenge her with his eyes, peering deep into the windows of her soul.  She tried to duel him away.  Her eyes clashed with his and tried to force out his penetration of her heart.  In the end, it was impossible, and meekly she whispered her answer.  "My mother."

Jason pulled away from her, stunned.  "Your mother?  But she was…"  He reflected back to his conversation with Mimi the first night aboard ship.  She had been surprisingly short with him when discussing her past.  She had merely mentioned she was born and raised in an English port town.  Suddenly, the pieces fell together.  "Oh my God, she was…"

Mimi felt his instant abandonment of her the moment she spat out the words.  Even a pirate felt her unworthy of him once he knew the truth.  She smiled bitterly.  She should have known.  It was the rejection she had been faced with throughout her childhood.  It was the reason her mother's name and history had not crossed her lips since the moment she was brought into the Black household.  "Go ahead and say it.  She was a whore."

His shock fell away from him at her caustic words, and Jason was once again aware of the woman in front of him.  When he had first seen her, he had marked her as innocent, unscarred.  Now, he knew better.  Like himself, she had her own past, her own wounds to deal with.  Yet somehow, the revelation that she was less than perfect made her even more remarkable in his eyes.  "You grew up on the docks?" he pressed gently.

Mimi nodded.  He might as well know the whole sordid history now.  Nothing could make it any worse.  "Yes.  My mother was a trollop, and like all trollops, she went where the sailors were.  But also like all trollops, she didn't start out with the intention of being every man's woman.  She was in love when she first came to Portsmouth, in love with her own special sailor.  He made her the usual promises.  They would marry when he got a little bit ahead.  He had to make his way in the world first, of course.  And his way was a different way from hers the moment he found out she was pregnant.  He jumped the next ship out of the country.  That wonderful specimen of a man was my father.  Feel like hearing the rest?"

Jason winced at the resentment in her words.  "Only if you feel like telling it."

She laughed, a hollow excuse for joy.  "I think it's a little late for that, don't you?  Anyway, there isn't much more.  She had to support herself someway.  No respectable place would hire an unwed mother, so she went to work lying flat on her back.  We lived in a one-room shanty right by the docks.  She used to lock me in the closet whenever the ships would come in, and she would have men over to the house.  But I could still hear.  I could hear the promises they made her, and she believed them!  She was a fool."  The look of repugnance on her face told the rest of the story, what else she heard kept away in the darkness.

"Mimi…"  Jason couldn't find the words to say and instead reached out for her, longing to hold her in his arms and soothe her pain.  

She jumped back the moment he touched her.  "No!" she screamed, backing away.  "I told you.  I won't be like her.  I won't let you or anyone else touch me.  I won't be the fool.  I refuse to be used and abused and then thrown away like yesterday's garbage.  I won't listen to your promises, Jason.  You're wasting your breath.  I've heard them all."  

Jason could only watch in silent pity as she turned away and retreated to the safety of her cabin, scarred yet strong, broken yet untouchable.

~~*~~

Brady left the small cell as Kev came for his watch.  Sitting in the presence of his father, day after day, hour after hour, was harder than he could ever have imagined.  They rarely spoke, and yet every word proceeding from the mouth of his sire made Brady respect him more.  How different his entire life would have been if not for that shipwreck!  He could only imagine the joy he would have felt growing to manhood under the loving care of his mother and the steadfast example of his father.  He certainly would never have ended up like this, a wanted man, a fugitive, a murderer.  

He could still feel upon his heart the stain of every life he had taken.  His self-justifications were wearing thinner by the day.  Having his innocent sister in his life was proof that there was still good and purity in this world.  He had thought those things had died with his mother.  He felt tired, soul-weary.  At his young age, he had already seen enough suffering for a lifetime.  He wanted an escape from it all, and he knew there was none forthcoming.

Seeking temporary respite from his tortured thoughts, Brady made his way topside.  The soothing sounds of the sea had a drugging effect on his spirits.  For a few moments at least, he would be able to forget the painful memories and simply fill his lungs with the salt air.  The Caribbean did not care what he had done, what secrets he carried.  The Trade Winds blew over him the same as they did over every other man, reassuring him that he played but a small part in the history of time.  He would be gone soon and forgotten, like all men.

The moon was half-hidden by a cloud as he climbed the ladder and walked onto the deck, yet it still shone purer light than the sparse lanterns dotting the passageways of the ship.  Its silvery glow reflected upon the water, upon the deck, and in the dim radiance, everything blended into a muted bluish-gray.  Everything but her.  

The lone figure on the deck, she stood as he had found her the first night aboard, her hands upon the rail, her head lifted in some pagan worship to Diana, goddess of the moon.  Tonight, her dress was white satin, and under the moon's careful reflection, it shone silvery, the garment of an ancient prophetess or some virgin sacrifice.  Gone were the atrocious hoops of the Infantata's dresses, the piles of lace, the bell-like waving with each movement.  The dress hung about her perfect form, highlighting her profile and curves, falling in a graceful waterfall of fabric at her feet.  Her hair did not hang in a cascading river as it had the first night.  Instead, it was pulled backed, curled and twisted in innumerable ways, until it seemed the crown on her perfection, the final blessing from her creator.  She looked otherworldly, a legend come to life.

Sensing his presence, she turned finally, slowly.  Brady nearly choked as he saw her eyes obscured by a black satin mask, the ties of which were lost in the mounds of her hair.  She seemed neither frightened nor surprised by his being there, and indeed her first words confirmed that she wasn't.  "I knew you would come."  The words were softly-spoken, her tone was musical, yet in her voice, there was something else, something more intoxicating than fine wine.

Without even realizing it, Brady was walking closer to her.  His footsteps echoed across the silent deck, yet he heard nothing but the lapping of the waves against the ship's side and the deep breathing of the muse before him.  The lace around the collar had been removed, and the neckline was a dangerously low square.  He could see the even rise and fall of her breasts with every breath she took.  From all outward appearances, she was cool, composed, totally in control.  Only once he was near enough to touch her did he notice the rapid beating of her heart, the quick pulse evident in the long lines of her neck, the flushed appearance of her cheeks in the moonlight.  Still, he saw no fear in her, only a heady desire in the sapphire eyes, even more brilliant surrounded by the sheer black mask.  

Chloe felt her heart would stop at his nearness.  She had never felt such a rush of anticipation and yearning before.  Her eyes devoured every inch of him in the white drawstring shirt, the tan breeches, the concealing mask she had come to love.  He exuded a masculine virility she had never come in contact with before, an attractiveness that drew her despite everything she had been taught.  His hand reached up to play with the lining of her mask, and a bemused smile tipped the corner of his mouth.  "What is this?  A sign of solidarity?"

She withdrew slightly from his touch, only a coy look on her face revealing it was not from fear but flirtation.  "Not quite, Captain.  You wear that mask to hide your identity, to pretend to be something you're not, to disguise who you are from the world.  Tonight, I hide who I am, what I know, what I believe.  Tonight, I am not Lady Chloe Wesley, any more than you are Brady Black."

He tensed the moment the name left her mouth.  His hands like iron wrapped around her bare arms, and he pulled her towards him, suddenly seeming as threatening as the first time she saw him.  "What did you call me?"

Chloe willed herself not to be afraid.  She refused to cower.  Her suspicions were confirmed in his immediate reaction, and she had nothing to feel guilty over.  Her flashing eyes met his, as she repeated, "Brady Black.  Did you think you could keep it a secret forever?  You are Lord Black's long-lost son.  I cannot believe it took me so long to discover the truth."

"And what truth would that be, my lady?" he gritted out, his hold on her as intense as ever, warming her to her very bones.

"Ah, ah, ah," she responded, a mysterious smile on her face.  "I am not your lady tonight.  I am not any kind of a lady."

"I'm not in the mood to play games."  Brady pulled her even closer to himself, until her lush body was pressed against his, with her arms tightly grasped by his side.  It was a mistake.  He knew it was a mistake the moment her eyes looked up into his, tempting orbs of blue.  Her eyes drifted down to his lips, and she consciously moistened her own in readiness.

"Who's playing?" she murmured seductively, before summoning up the courage to place a tentative kiss on his collarbone.  She had never been so brazen in her life.  She doubted her mother had ever done such a thing, or her grandmother before her, even to their own husbands.  She had no concept of ever having learned such a behavior, but in this moment, with her body molding into his, it felt right.  She was determined to follow her instincts for once in her life and hold nothing back.

Shocked by her overture, Brady almost succumbed to the temptation to take her in his arms.  But then Jason's warning from this morning made itself heard loud and clear, and he abruptly disentangled himself from her.  "You have no idea what you're doing, little girl.  You're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble."

"Good," she returned defiantly.  "I need trouble.  However, you're wrong about one thing.  I am not a little girl."

Brady's eyes raked over her, despite every impulse from his brain telling them to stop.  He took in the oh-so-womanly body slowly, savoring every curve.  When he finally met her eyes again, he found no trace of an embarrassed blush in her cheeks as he had been expecting.  Rather a satisfied smile was spread across her face.  She knew she was winning.  "Very well," was his cool reply.  "You're not a lady.  You're not a little girl.  What are you then?"

It was the question she had been waiting for him to ask.  "Tonight, I am a Siren, calling a sailor to his doom."  There was a lilting quality to her speech, and Brady found the comparison more than apt.  Her voice itself was singing to him, trying to push aside all he knew to be wrong about this.  Seeing him weaken, Chloe approached him again, her every step saying volumes about her plan for the evening.  

It might have worked had not Brady's brain screamed out a warning, reminding him of her earlier surprise declaration.  "Enough, m'lady.  I need to know why you assume I am Brady Black, whoever he may be."

Annoyed, Chloe frowned.  She should have mentioned that later.  She would never know what it felt like for him to kiss her if he spent the whole night obsessing over her deduction of his identity.  "I don't assume; I know.  You gave it away yourself in your reaction when I said your name, Brady.  Before that, I had only suspicions from observations of you and Lord Black.  You confirmed them for me."

Brady sized up the lady in front of him, suddenly finding her formidable beyond the passion inside of her.  The woman was obviously intelligent beyond the average.  "I applaud your detective work, Lady Wesley.  May I ask what you intend to do with your knowledge?"

"Do?" Chloe asked, perplexed.  "Nothing.  I assume you have your reasons for keeping silent, and you will tell Lord Black in your own time."

He stared at her, astonished by her flippant attitude.  "You don't have questions?  You don't want a list of reasons or a history of my life until now?"

"Yes, I do…eventually.  When you're ready to tell me and your family, of course.  For tonight, all I want is to be here."  Her voice had again dropped into that breathy whisper as she approached him once more.  He watched without moving as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body close to his.  "I want to live, Captain.  I want to feel the way I feel and not feel guilty about it and not need to repress it or fear it.  I want…I want _you, Brady."_

She had made her position impeccably clear, and still he made no move to hold her.  For a moment, she nearly gave up; one look in his eyes convinced her she had to keep trying.  Nervously, she wet her lips again and then placed them ever so gently on his chin.  She pulled back and looked into his eyes.  She saw his inward struggle, between what he knew to be right and what he felt at that moment.  She knew she had only to tempt him a little farther, and he would break.  Her lips trailed along his jawbone, planting light kisses over his rough skin.  She felt the heat of his skin against hers, heard the throbbing of his heart, shivered at the warmth of his breath on her neck.  

Slowly, Chloe worked her way back to his lips.  She placed a brush of a kiss against the side of his mouth and then pulled back.  Her eyes showed for the first time her uncertainty and inexperience.  She knew she wanted this.  She knew deep in her soul that the undefined restlessness inside of her had always been a yearning for this man.  Yet she was still, despite her wild heart, an innocent in the ways of the world.  Her only kiss had come from a man who asked permission to kiss her and then seemed to view it as a sign of possession.  What did she know of what real passion was supposed to feel like?

Her uncertainty lasted only a moment, only until one more glance in the bright blue eyes confirmed her connection to Brady.  Without another thought or worry in her head, she laid a tender kiss upon his lips.  It was the merest flicker of butterfly wings.  Her lips flirted, brushed, and then pulled away.  She took a step backwards, not abandoning her position in his arms, but unwilling to do more.  Not when he stood before her an immovable object.

Brady saw the passion in her eyes.  He felt the trembling of her body.  He heard the sharp intake of her breath.  And he knew his battle was lost.  As she was prepared to turn around, to leave in defeat, his arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her inexorably closer to him, until her willing body was meshed with his.  His hands buried themselves in the rich depths of her hair, and she found her face tilted upwards as his eyes looked down at her, the struggle over, only desire apparent now.  "God forgive me," he groaned in surrender, before lowering his head to feast himself on her waiting lips.

Lips blended, pressed, and demanded more from each other as they both gave into the urge they'd been fighting since the moment they laid eyes on each other.  There was a desire to learn every facet of each other.  They challenged and fed off of each other, until finally Brady broke through her defenses and plunged his tongue into the rich depths of her mouth.  Rather than objecting, rather than pulling away in mortification as a good lady should, Chloe found herself falling deeper into his arms, encouraging his advances.  She felt light-headed.  Heat was swirling in her belly, and as his tongue expertly flicked over her pleasure spot, she groaned into his mouth, only providing him with more reason to continue his assault.  Then, drawn by some unknown instinct, she was warring with him for supremacy.  The kiss had turned into some primal struggle of wills, of strength versus passion, of control versus desire.  It went on and on until they could not even remember who was supposed to be representing what, and they both yielded to the overwhelming flood surrounding them.  They were drowning in each other.    

Brady's hands were slowly wreaking havoc on her precise curls, until they were tumbling in wanton disarray down her back.  Her own hands had made their way to his back, pulling his body taut against hers before slipping underneath to feel the hard muscle and the heat of his skin.  He was walking her backwards, and she felt the sturdy wood of the railing press into her back, offering her support as their endless combat went on.  Every time their mouths were forced apart, they found their way back to each other with even more feverish intensity.  

Chloe could no longer even hear the roar of the sea over the pounding of her heart.  The blood was swirling in her ears, and she was swept under in a tidal wave of lust and desire.  Brady's hands had finally left her hair only to travel in a searing line down the sides of her body.  Her mouth left his on a gasp as he first caressed and cupped her full breast.  She had never been touched in such a way in her life, and it was a shock to her system.  His hand abruptly dropped as he looked into her eyes, as if to assure her it was all right.  They could stop.  

Chloe only smiled and shook her head.  Reaching down, she took his hand in hers and lifted it to kiss each of his battle-scarred knuckles.  Time seemed to slow around them, as the passion fled momentarily to be replaced by something infinitely more terrifying, something neither of them had a name for.  She lowered his hand to place it over her throbbing heart.  Her hand covered his for countless moments until the silence grew deafening, and he was forced once again to claim her lips.

The world changed again, until instead of immobile, it seemed to spin around them, swirling both of them down into its madness.  Lips met in charged longing or trailed across the other's skin, committing bodies to memory like a treasure map.  Unsure where her brazenness came from, Chloe yanked his shirt off and discarded it thoughtlessly on the rail.  It didn't matter where it went, as long as it was gone from his perfect form.  Drawn by basal instinct, she gave in to the urge to plant kisses along his solid chest and abdomen.  His skin felt like heaven beneath her lips, beneath her fingers, as she asserted her claim on every part of him.

With a groan, Brady pulled her lips back up to his, gorging himself on the taste and feel of her.  The tightly drawn laces on the back of her dress were being loosened by his agile fingers, and still she had no objection to make.  This felt right.  If the world was to crumble down around them at that moment, they would not have noticed.  It didn't matter.  Nothing mattered beyond the one goal of completion.  Chloe wasn't even sure where they were headed, except in the vaguest sense, but she knew she wanted to be there.  

As the stays holding her in gave way and the ripe swell of her breasts overfilled, she was introduced to a new feeling of pleasure as his lips sought out the perfect orbs.  Perhaps she should have felt embarrassment, but there was none.  There was only the electrifying bliss of his mouth circling, teasing, and finally suckling her breast.  She found herself arching into him, her hands digging into the mask still obscuring his face.  When the cry broke from her lips, she couldn't have been more shocked.  No proper lady had ever made a sound like that, she was quite sure.  But to hell with ambiguous social law.  Nothing had ever given her this much pleasure before.  She knew as Brady's ministrations moved to her other breast that her virtue was irredeemably gone, but it didn't matter.  Now she knew this was what she had wanted all along.  This was why she had come up to this deck.  This was why she had worn the mask.

The mask.  It had acted as a catalyst to allow her to act the way she did, and it also spelled her doom.  When Brady rose once more to capture her lips, his hands dug into her hair once more and inadvertently slipped the clasp holding it to the Siren's face.  The mask fluttered towards the deck and then fell, fluttering into the sea.  And lo and behold, Lady Chloe Wesley stood before him, awakening all his previously silenced warnings.

_"You have my word of honor."  He had promised his father the ladies would be safe in his care.  He had promised they would reach Port Royal with their virtue still intact.  He had lied.  He had broken his word, his lifeblood.  With awakening horror, he saw the disheveled girl in front of him.  She looked confused by his sudden withdrawal and eager to continue what they had started.  Part of him—the lower half, still throbbing with need—wanted desperately to oblige that wish.  He wanted her enough that a moment before he was willing to take her in the middle of the Caribbean Sea on an exposed deck of a pirate ship.  But…_

"We can't do this," he murmured throatily.  The betrayed look that sprung instantly to her eyes was almost his undoing.  "I'm sorry, m'lady.  I should never have let it come this far in the first place.  I was…I mean, we were…I'm sorry."  He could think of no words that would make the rejection she was feeling now any less painful.

Tears pooled in her eyes, as Chloe struggled to comprehend this sudden change in her passionate would-be lover.  "I don't understand.  I thought…"

Brady shook his head, silencing any further words.  "It's not your fault, m'lady.  It never should have happened."

Humiliation came rushing in as sanity was restored, and Chloe's tears turned to rage in a moment.  For the second time in their short acquaintance, she slapped the pirate across the face with all the strength she could muster.  "Don't ever come near me again," she commanded, in a voice she hoped didn't shake. "I never want to see you again."  

Face ringing from her slap, Brady nodded his agreement.  Her reaction was completely justified and undoubtedly for the best in any case.  Being near her was not possible if he was to keep—at least technically—his promise to his father.  "As you wish, m'lady."  Chloe's arms closed around her exposed breasts, as she tried and failed to restore her dignity.  He scooped his discarded shirt off the rail and held it out to her, carefully averting his gaze.  "Here, m'lady.  Take this."

Refusing to meet his eyes, Chloe reached for the shirt.  As both were so determined to avoid looking at each other, their fingers ended up brushing mid-transfer.  That was the last she could handle.  With a cry of betrayal and humiliation, she pressed the shirt to her chest and ran below decks.  She didn't stop until she was safely locked away behind the cabin door.  

Chloe sank against the sturdy wood, muting her sobs in the shirt so as not to awaken Belle.  They were right.  They were all right.  Mimi, and her parents, and Belle, and Philip.  There was a reason women were supposed to be locked up in ivory towers.  At least when they weren't allowed to feel love, they couldn't feel heartbreak either.__


	11. Chapter Eleven

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Eleven**

Ships docked in Port Royal everyday.  Yet no one could remember such an anticipated arrival for the past five years at least.  Commander Shawn Douglas Brady had promised the first sailor to spot the _Dolphin would be granted a full day's leave.  Not to be outdone, Philip Kiriakis had advertised one hundred pounds to the captain of any private vessel that met the __Dolphin on her way to port.  With such incentive, it was no wonder the whole city knew of the __Dolphin's whereabouts three days before it actually passed through the mouth of Port Royal.  The cannons boomed to welcome it, and a surprisingly large crowd had gathered, considering it was merely a common merchant vessel._

Except to Shawn.  For him, it was the carrier of all his hopes and dreams, his love, his future.  He was on the docks before the rising of the sun, determined to be the first face Belle saw when she stepped off the ship.  It had been four incredibly long months since he'd last seen her, since they'd pledged hands and hearts to each other.  He was nervous, though he tried his best to hide it.  He wanted her to love this place as much as he did.  He wanted her to love _him.  Deep inside, he worried Belle's love for him was based on girlish fancy and would fade away when exposed to the cruel realities of life._

He pushed all such abstract thoughts away as he noticed the arrival of Philip's carriage.  Shawn grinned.  Even though he normally didn't care much for the obnoxious planter, he was in no mood to hold a grudge—especially against someone in precisely the same situation he was, waiting for a beloved fiancé to return to him.  Shawn watched in amusement as the two footmen disembarked and lowered a platform before Philip would place so much as a toe outside.  He stepped out carefully, his cream-colored suit already stained from the long ride from Titan Plantation.  His face immediately wrinkled in distaste at the odor and look of the docks, and Shawn momentarily believed he would turn tail and run.

At that moment, Philip found Shawn's face in the crowd and beckoned him over.  Resigned by now to Philip's imperious manner, Shawn obediently marched to the carriage.  Kiriakis still stood on the platform, apparently unwilling to soil his boots with Port Royal's filth.  "Well, Commander, today's the day," he drawled.

Shawn was appalled by his bored tone over an event he'd been counting the minutes for.  "Indeed, sir.  I can hardly wait to see my Belle's face again."

"We shan't have to, shall we?" Philip whined.  Shading his eyes with a gloved hand, he made a show of looking out to sea.  "I can't afford to spend a day idling here in this blasted sun.  I was under the impression the ship would be arriving any moment."

Resisting the urge to push the prissy gentleman into a large puddle of mud just to see how he'd react, Shawn instead jerked his head to an approaching vessel.  "No need to worry, Kiriakis.  That's her now."  He frowned as the boat passed by, and he caught a glimpse of the crew's grim faces.  Where were Belle and the others?  "Something's wrong," he murmured to himself.

"What's that?" Phil questioned disinterestedly.  His eyes too began scanning the crowd assembled on the deck of the _Dolphin.  "Are you sure this is the right boat, Commander?"_

Shawn graced him with a withering stare but chose not to respond.  Increasingly worried, he rushed to the dockside as the _Dolphin let down a small boat to carry a few men to shore.  Any slight hope he was overreacting died the moment he saw the captain enter the rowboat.  No captain would leave his ship while female passengers remained on board.  "Dear God, let her be safe."_

Philip's indolence ended as he witnessed Shawn's panic.  Within seconds, he was by Shawn's side, dirty boots the last thing on his mind.  "Where is she?" he demanded as the boat pulled up to the deck.  

The captain and crew members rose slowly, their faces both solemn and penitent.  The captain's eyes fell on the insignia on Shawn's uniform.  "Commander, I am Captain Austin Reed of the H.M.S. _Dolphin, and we need to talk."_

~~*~~

"How could you let this happen?" Philip railed, pacing the small room that served as Shawn's office in navy headquarters.  "Of all the bumbling, idiotic…I'll have you stripped of your command for this.  You'll never captain another ship in all—"

"Shut up!" Shawn roared, causing Philip to stop ranting and fall into a sullen silence.  Shawn rested his head in his hands, Belle's sweet smile passing through his mind.  Trying to stay in control so he could do his job, he took a few deep breaths and looked up at both fools in front of him.  "All right.  Here's what we're going to do.  Kiriakis, you're going to sit down and keep your mouth shut.  If I hear another word pass your lips, you can wait outside.  Understood?"  Looking mutinous, Philip nodded and sat down in the vacant wooden chair across from Shawn's teakwood desk.  "Now, Captain Reed, free from interruption, I want you to tell me the story again.  Don't leave out anything.  It could be important."

Dutifully, Austin repeated everything he had spent the past twenty minutes explaining.  He told how they had picked up some supposed castaways, how the black-masked man had come aboard and his men had been taken by surprise.  "It's strange," he concluded.  "The man's words to me about the Spanish sounded more like a warning than a threat.  I half-expected us to be boarded by the _guarda__ costa before we arrived here, yet we never were."_

"Of course you weren't, you moron," Philip hissed.  "It was an obvious set-up, but you fell for it.  And now, these…these…kidnapping pirates have my betrothed.  I'll see you hanged for this!"

"Enough," Shawn broke in, his voice deceptively quiet.  "Don't speak of what you don't understand.  There's something strange going on here.  Pirates don't attack English ships.  There's no reason they should.  But this was planned and executed flawlessly.  These men—whoever they are—knew exactly what they were doing.  They boarded with the express purpose of taking Lord Black and the others.  The question we have to answer is why."  He turned to study the appropriately shame-faced Captain Reed.  "Are you positive they were English?  Accents can be learned.  What did they look like?"

Austin shrugged.  "They looked like average English sailors.  Tanned and weathered by the sun, but light-skinned.  The leader was masked, as I said, but his eyes were blue.  The other man who spoke had blonde hair.  There is no possibility they were Spaniards in disguise."

A leader with blue eyes.  A second with blonde hair.  A boarding and capture carried out without a single mistake.  After three years in the Caribbean, Shawn knew of only one pirate crew capable of such a brilliant, dastardly act.  "No," he choked, turning from the other two to face the map tacked to his wall.  He pinpointed the location of the _Dolphin's attack.  With his other hand, he traced the path he knew the __Vengeance was taking at that time.  "Oh God, no."_

"What?  What is it?" Philip demanded, trying to see over Shawn's shoulder what had so entirely captured his attention.

Shawn staggered under the weight of his knowledge? Why?  Why would Brady do such a thing?  How could his friendship be so betrayed?  He remembered their conversation at the tavern.  Brady had looked so ill and left so abruptly; perhaps he did think the Spanish were going to take the _Dolphin.  But if so, why had Brady not come to him with the information?  He knew Shawn's fiancé was aboard.  Shawn cursed bitterly as betrayal and rage replaced his shock.  "You'll be getting your wish after all, Kiriakis.  I'm going to make sure Blackheart hangs for this!"_

"Blackheart?  What does he have to do with this?"  Philip frowned, before realization settled on him.  "You think Blackheart did this?  How do you know?"  He surveyed the naval man with increasing suspicion.

Shawn ignored his questions as he poured over his maps, his hands moving along a path incomprehensible to the other two.  "There."  He pushed a pin into a small island almost lost in the vastness of the sea.  "That's where he'll take them.  That's where Blackheart will meet his end."

~~*~~

_"No!  No!  Mother!  Let me see my mother."  The small blonde child struggled helplessly against the hands that held him back.  Finally, he kicked one man in the shin, while biting at another.  "Mother!  Mother!" he cried franticly as he ran down, down, down, round twisted staircases and darkened corridors.  Screams—inarticulate cries of misery and pain—echoed off the walls, and most of them belonged to another voice.  The boy ran on, his light, pattering feet flying towards his destination.  "Stop it!  Stop hurting her!  I'm coming, Mama.  I'm coming."  Tall men pursued him, but they could not match the agility of the child as he ran.  _

_One last heavy, wooden door was pushed open, and the boy stood atop a dimly lit staircase.  He froze in terror at the sight before his eyes.  His mother—the woman he'd considered pretty enough to be an angel—was virtually unrecognizable.  Blood dripped from her mouth, from her colorless cheeks, from her bound wrists and ankles.  Her body was stretched impossibly far on the machinery he'd come to know only as el Estante__, the Rack.  Her screams had ended.  The task of drawing breath seemed to require all her effort.  A strange rasping accompanied every inhalation.  _

_"Mama?" he whispered, his bottom lip quivering as tears threatened to choke him._

_Her eyes, made pure and brilliant through suffering, rose to look once more on the face dearest to her.  "My boy," she whispered brokenly._

_All around them froze.  Even the Inquisitors, their torturers, were spellbound and unable to intrude on this last moment between mother and son.  The boy stumbled down the stairs, half-afraid to come nearer to the horrifying sight, but longing for the comfort of his mother's embrace.  "Mama," he repeated, as he stood beside her and stroked the dirty, ratted hair out of her face—hair that had once shone with a fire to capture the heart of a viscount.  "It will be all right, Mama.  You'll be all right."_

_The beatific smile on her face was no longer marred by pain and sorrow.  "Yes, Brady.  I'll be safe soon.  They can't hurt me anymore.  But I have to go away now.  Do you understand, Brady?  Mama has to leave you."_

_Brady shook his head as tears plummeted down his cheeks.  No, he didn't understand.  He would never understand.  He was only a little boy who needed his mother.  She couldn't leave him.  What would he do without her?_

_"My sweet boy…"  Isabella's voice broke as she thought of the one who would be left behind.  She knew her suffering was almost at an end.  But what of her child, the child of her love?  "you must be brave, Brady; brave and good for Mama.  Even when you feel most alone, know that I love you.  And Brady…"  She winced as she felt her fractured ribs press even deeper inside her, cutting off breath.  She had mere moments left on earth, and there was so much she still wanted to say._

_"Yes, Mama?"__ Brady knelt by her side, resting his soft, blond head against her chained hand and feeling her fingers brush his hair weakly.  Comforting fingers that had soothed his fears and his fevers late at night.  Healing hands which would soon lie still and cold in the ground._

_"Brady, your father…he loved you, too.  If…if you ever get away, find him.  I last saw him in the storm."  Her expressive eyes filled with tears as she realized she would never again rest in the arms of the one who loved her, never feel his hands on her face or hear his deep voice whispering lover's secrets to her.  "If we survived, maybe he did too.  John Black, Brady.  My John…my love…have faith…"_

"NO!"  The cry ripped from his own mouth as the child screamed, and Lord John Black flew up from his cot.  He looked around, disoriented and afraid.  His racing heart refused to slow even as he recognized the captain of the _Vengeance watching with pity.  He buried his face in his hands, trying to erase his nightmare vision.  How could he dream such a thing?  It couldn't possibly be true, could it?  His thoughts had been dwelling more than ever on Isabella and Brady since this trip had started.  Perhaps, subconsciously, he had associated Blackheart's tale of his mother's fate with his own tragedy.  _

So why had it felt so real?

"Are you all right, m'lord?" the masked man questioned.

"Fine," John returned coldly, unwilling to voice his strange thoughts to the pirate, even as he tried to find in him some resemblance to the son he had given up for dead.

"What did you dream of, m'lord?" Brady asked.  He wanted to know his father better.  Even though he knew he could never claim the relationship, he yearned for a bond with the man who had sired him.

John paused before replying carefully, "My wife."  He searched for a reaction in the younger man, but no visible changes occurred to give away his thoughts.  

"One would think dreaming about one's wife would be pleasant.  Does Lady Black fill your heart with such dread?"  The corners of Brady's mouth tipped up in a half-smile.  

"It was not Marlena—my current wife—I dreamt about, but my first, my beloved, Isabella."  Again, John perused him for any indication of feeling, but the bland expression of slight curiosity did not alter.  Blackheart was obviously a master at playing his role, but the deep blue eyes behind the mask were his undoing.  In them, John thought he saw a glimpse of the innocent child who had rested so peacefully in his arms so many years ago.  Or perhaps he only hoped…

Brady willed himself to remain calm, to show nothing of his emotions.  Yet his heart leapt as he discovered his father still thought of her after all these years.  "What did you dream about her?"

The explanation would never be given, for at that moment, the approved knock sounded on the door.  "Captain, it's me," came Kev's excited voice.

Irritated, Brady threw open the door.  "What?" he hissed towards his second mate.

Kevin doffed his hat, appropriately deferential.  "Sorry to disturb you, Captain, but Jase is wanting to see you topside.  I'll watch his Lordship while you're gone."

Brady trusted Jason implicitly and knew if his first mate was calling for him, there was a damn good reason.  With a curt nod in his father's direction, he made his way out of the brig and along the familiar passageways until he emerged on deck.  The sun was beginning to slip below the horizon, casting a myriad of orange, purple, and red shadows on the sky and over the water.  Jason stood by the starboard rail, studying something with a telescope while crew members talked around him.  Their agitation was plainly discernable, and they parted to make way for their captain.  

"Captain," said Jason respectfully, well aware their conversation would be eagerly attended by every man on deck.  He handed the telescope to Brady.  "We've spotted a ship, sir.  It's Spanish, and it's making its way to the Mainland."

Brady quickly spotted the vessel. His trained eye could perceive immediately that it was no galleon sailing to Peru for another load of silver, nor was it the feared _guarda__ costa on patrol.  No, this was the __Vengeance's favorite target, a slave ship bearing more heretics, political prisoners, and native peoples to mine the silver for the Spanish king.  Brady let the telescope fall from his eye, his face grim.  The greater part of him wanted nothing more than to ready his men for attack, but he was acutely aware of the precious cargo they already bore.  "Let it go."_

Loud murmurs of surprise and disappointment swept through the crew.  Jason silenced them with a wave of his hand.  Even in the waning light of dusk, his disapproval was evident. "It's an easy mark, Captain."

"We can't risk it, Jase; not with the women aboard."

"Is the fate of four women worth more than the lives of the hundred souls we can save?  The _Vengeance has never been defeated in sea battle, and we won't be taken by a poorly-manned, scarcely-defended slave ship."  He put his hand on Brady's shoulder and drew closer to him, shutting the others out from their discussion.  "This is why they sail with us.  You know that.  You're the only captain in the Caribbean who has put the destruction of the Spanish ahead of acquiring riches.  If we don't keep faith with our mission, the men won't keep faith with us."_

Brady nodded, seeing not only the truth in his friend's words, but the justification he needed to wage battle upon blasted Spain.  "Ready the men.  I'm going to take the women down to Lord Black.  I don't expect trouble, but if it comes, they'll at least have Kevin and the viscount to defend them.  I'll be back before we reach the ship."  

"Aye, aye, Captain," Jase saluted, before he turned on his heel and began barking orders to the men.

As Brady made his way below, he could see his crew hurrying around the decks, loosening rigging, sharpening swords, lowering boats.  A sadistic smile darkened his face as his hand touched his sword hilt.  Before the night was over, it would once again fulfill its purpose and spill the blood of his mother's murderers.

~~*~~

Chloe hadn't looked her in the eye all day long.  Come to think of it, nothing about Chloe seemed right today, Belle mused.  She rarely spoke; when she did, it was with an air of furtiveness.  She jumped and blushed anytime someone spoke to her, as if caught in the middle of some sinful thought.  Not once had she left the cabin or even made mention of wanting to, a first in their time aboard the _Vengeance.  Belle was confused by this, but Mimi seemed to understand.  At least, her pitying gaze rested often on Lady Wesley.  Belle would have liked to ask her maid about it, but she hadn't had a moment free of Chloe and Jan all day.  Now, Mimi was gone to the galley to fetch their supper, since their captors seemed to have forgotten about them._

"Chloe, is something wrong?" Belle pried softly, when she couldn't take it anymore.

Yet again, Chloe reddened and looked startled.  "Wrong?  No, nothing's wrong, Belle.  What makes you think something's wrong?"

"You've been acting strangely all day," she pointed out.  "If something is bothering you, you can tell me.  You're my best friend, Chloe.  Surely, you know you can share anything with me."

"Not this," Chloe mumbled under her breath.  She could not forget what had happened last night.  She had been as brazen as a common harlot.  Belle would never understand the kind of madness that had come upon her, an uncontrollable passion that lived within her blood.  Even more humiliating was her shame had nothing to do with her actions and everything to do with his rejection of her.  She had thrown herself at him, and he had turned her away.

"I wager I know Lady Chloe's secret," Jan spat out, her dark eyes glittering with malice and cruel amusement at Chloe's look of panic.  "And I'm sure Mr. Kiriakis will be overjoyed when I tell him what I've seen."  

Belle glanced from Jan's smug expression to Chloe's suddenly pale face.  "I don't understand!  Would someone please tell me what's going on here?"

A knock on the door proved Chloe's salvation.  She rushed to answer it only to draw back again when she saw the face on the other side.  "Begging your pardon, Lady Wesley," Brady bowed, entering the cabin, "but it is of the utmost importance that I escort you ladies to Lord Black immediately."  He had no time to focus on Chloe's mortified expression.  Although something deep inside him grieved for her tattered virtue, she was the least of his worries at the moment.

"Why?  What's the matter?" demanded Belle.  "Has something happened to my father?"

"Your father is alive and well, m'lady.  This is for your own protection.  We are about to attack a Spanish ship, and as much you may want to be rescued, falling into Spanish hands would be descending into a hell you can't even imagine."

Belle studied the pirate's grim face for only a moment before nodding her agreement.  Despite herself, she trusted this man.  He had kept his word to her father to keep her safe.  He had saved her life when she was ill.  If he said she would be protected, she believed him.  Besides, she would feel safer with her father.  "As you say, Captain.  We will gladly follow you to my father."

"What about Mimi?" Chloe interjected, though her eyes remained rooted to the floor.  "She's in the galley."

"I'll send someone to find her," Brady promised.  "For now, come with me."  He led the three girls back down to the brig, noticing sadly that Chloe kept as much distance as possible between them.  It was for the best, he knew.  Why then did it hurt him so?  He pushed her out of his thoughts the moment he stood before his father again.  As Belle and John exchanged greetings through iron bars, no one noticed Brady walk to a cupboard and pull out two objects.

Only when the determined footsteps placed Brady directly in front of him did John noticed the sword and key he carried.  "What's this?"

"I told you before, Your Lordship; you were imprisoned for your own protection.  Now, in the interest of your safety and your daughter's, I release you."

The rattle of the key in the lock struck them all through the heart in the silence of the room.  No sooner was the door open than Belle rushed in, throwing her arms around her father's neck.  John wrapped one arm protectively around her waist, but his eyes remained fastened on the pirate, respect and something more shining through.  "Thank you, Captain."

Brady barely acknowledged the thanks, instead holding forth the rapier in both hands.  "Your sword, my lord.  I doubt you'll need it, but should the occasion arise…"

John stared at the proffered weapon but did not reach for it.  "What's to stop me from using this to kill you or your men?"

"Nothing, my lord, save our own skills," was Brady's glib reply.

Slowly, the viscount reclaimed his sword, bringing it to his temple in a sign of respect.  "Go fight your battle, Blackheart.  The ladies are safe with me."

Brady bowed low and then turned to leave, confident Kev and his father would keep Belle and Chloe safe.  

"Captain," Belle's voice stopped him.  He looked over his shoulder to see the petite blonde with such a striking resemblance to him.  Her face was softened with gratitude and joy at having her father back.

"Yes, m'lady?"

She smiled at him, blessing him with her goodness.  "God go with you."

~~*~~

The smooth, almost silent movement of the _Vengeance through the waves didn't change, even as they approached their target.  Yet an expectant silence had fallen over its crew.  Some already had their pistols at the ready.  Six men were positioned at the ship's three cannons.  Still more had grappling hooks at hand.  Brady and Jase themselves stood at the forefront, their hands on their sword hilts.  They wouldn't draw them until the last possible moment, lest a flash of silver against the moonlight give them away._

The Spanish vessel sailed on, its crew unaware of the fate awaiting them.  After all, those greedy English dogs always went after the treasure galleons.  No one ever bothered with small prison ships like this one.  Well, no one but the terrifying _Capitán__ Corazónnegro, but last word on him was he had taken temporary refuge on Jamaica.  _

The waning moon was with the _Vengeance that night, hiding behind the clouds until the very last moment.  They were within a hundred yards of the Spanish ship, and no alarm had been sounded.  Jason held his breath, as though so light a thing as the exhalation of air could give them away.  Not a sound was heard on deck as they drifted ever closer.  Seventy-five yards.  Fifty.  Twenty-five._

"Now!"  The scraping of steel as Brady's cutlass was set free was drowned by the simultaneous blasting of the cannons and the whipping of rope across the chasm.  The skill of the men could not be disputed as every hook hit its mark.  The guns had done their work as well.  Two of the ships masts cracked and fell, draping sails down on the disoriented Spanish crew.  Panic swept through them, and Brady discerned more than a few Castilian curse words among the screams.  His grin was cold and deadly as he signaled his men forward.  A dozen men pulled the ropes taut, bringing the ships within touching distance.

With the names of mothers, wives, and children on their lips, the crew of the _Vengeance swarmed the deck of the Spanish ship, meeting out death and judgment on all the Spaniards unfortunate enough to escape the sail's shroud.  Winters grabbed a torch and set fire to the canvas, adding the stench of burning flesh to the usual smells of warfare.  No guilt struck Brady's heart as he plunged his cutlass through a lad of twenty.  Blood and entrails splattered onto his clothes, his arms, his face.  He hardly felt their sickening warmth.  The reek of death was in the air, and—as so many times before—emotions were lost in adrenaline, conscience in the dark pleasure of revenge._

Jason held back, choosing his victims more carefully.  Unlike his friend, he couldn't fight purely on instinct, couldn't be satisfied by the indiscriminate shedding of blood.  It seemed an inadequate payback. He needed to pierce the heart of some wealthy Spanish Don, some pig who was responsible for the murder of women and children.  He grinned as he saw his first mark, a portly, goateed man emerging from below decks in his dressing gown, a pistol in one hand, an old military saber in the other.

Weaving his way through the battle and quickly dispatching the two foolish guards who tried to block his path, Jason confronted the coward, bowing mockingly low.  The man shouted something in Spanish.  Jason didn't need Brady's translation to know the devil was pleading for his life.  Jason raised his cutlass, unmoved by the display.  The Spaniard rose his shaking hand to fire his pistol, but his marksmanship was as non-existent as his courage.  The shot hit the railing far to Jason's left.  Backed into a corner, the Don had no choice but to fight.

Jason could have run him through with one simple thrust, but he gave his unworthy opponent a chance.  Stepping back, he waited for the old saber to swing.  He deflected the first blow easily and made a half-hearted one of his own.  Back and forth it went, Jason always restraining his hand.  The fat man was tiring; sweat poured down his face and slicked his hands, making his parries even wilder.  

Finally, bored of the game, Jason caught the Don's wrist, stopping his sword midair.  "For Maria," Jason breathed, the words accompanying every kill he'd ever made.  He spat in the man's face and pushed him against the cabin wall.  Using all his strength, he forced his cutlass the width of the Spaniard, pulling back only when he felt solid wood.  

The dying man slipped to the ground, only two words upon his lips.  "_Por__ qué?"_

Jason didn't even hear.  He had already turned away, to kill again.

~~*~~

It wasn't a sight Chloe had ever expected to see.  Jan Spears knelt in a corner, her elbows resting on a chair as she silently mouthed a prayer.  Chloe wasn't even sure what she was praying for.  She couldn't possibly care about the pirate crew.  She had, from all appearances, loathed every moment spent aboard the _Vengeance.  Still, something about the fervent piety of the girl disturbed her.  She watched as Jan rocked back and forth, praying as though she'd never cease.  This was a woman she'd considered beneath her, a common spy sent from her fiancé to dog her movements.  Yet even she had more right to talk to God than Chloe did.  After what she'd done, she doubted God would even listen to her prayers._

Unable to look anymore on the depressing sight, Chloe turned her head away, only to catch Kevin also watching Jan.  The moment he felt Chloe's eyes upon him, he turned back to his vigil by the door.  Chloe only shook her head.  The taciturn second mate of the _Vengeance held no great interest for her.  He was a strange, silent man and—she feared—rather boring._

His captain, on the other hand…but no, she refused to let herself think of him.  Her gaze traveled to the ceiling, wishing she could see the battle going on above.  She imagined it must be dreadfully exciting.  Except for one blast almost half an hour ago that shook the entire ship, she had yet to hear a thing.  It was driving her mad.  She knew Brady was a man to reckoned with, that it was unlikely anything would happen to him.  Still, she worried.  She hated herself for worrying.  Why couldn't she hate him, or at least be coolly indifferent?  But despite her humiliation, she still cared for him, longed for him.  Most of all, she wanted him to live.  And she couldn't even pray for it.

Chloe looked up as footsteps approached and found Lord Black had left his daughter's side for the first time since they'd been brought here.  Belle lay sleeping on the solitary cot in the room, her weak health prevailing over her desire to speak to her father.  Chloe sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest.  To her surprise, Lord Black joined her, without a word slipping into a similar position.

He sat silently by her side for several minutes before reaching over and giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.  "He'll be all right, Chloe.  Don't worry," he whispered, so quietly there was no way others could have heard.

Chloe's head shot in his direction, open-mouthed in her astonishment.  "Wh-what?  Who do you mean, m'lord?" she stammered back, managing to keep her voice almost inaudible.

"Don't be coy with me, young lady.  I've known you since you were a child.  You're practically a second daughter to me.  I would have to be blind not to see the way you look at him…or avoid looking at him, as the case may be."

"My lord, I…I hardly know what to say."  She bowed her head again, properly shamed.  "There is no excuse for it, I know."

"Chloe, it's all right," John stopped her confession.  "I didn't come to chastise you, only to comfort you.  Blackheart's a strong man; a good man, I think."  A fleeting frown passed over his features.  "He has had a hard life.  He knows how to survive."

Chloe could barely conceal her surprise as she listened to the man who had been a second father to her describe a murdering pirate with such praise.  Perhaps, deep down, he sensed Blackheart was his son.  She certainly hoped so.  "I know, my lord, but it does not make the waiting any easier."

John allowed a dark chuckle to pass his lips.  "No, it wouldn't, would it?  You've chosen a hard life for yourself, Chloe.  Harder even than my Izzy's.  A sailor as least has a home, though he must leave it often.  A pirate cannot risk one."

She marveled at John's understanding.  He seemed to know this was more than a passing fancy of hers, that the whole course of her life had changed over the past few days.  "Am I mad to feel this way about him?"

A soft smile crossed John's lips, as he lifted a hand to stroke her dark hair.  "If love is madness, Chloe, then we should all go insane.  The world would be a better place for it."

Their conversation was cut short as Belle began to stir, and John returned to his daughter's side.  Belle sat up, yawning.  She blinked her guileless blue eyes open and looked around.  "Where's Mimi?"

~~*~~

She had meant to go to the galley when she left the cabin late that afternoon, but halfway there, she spotted her assailant from the other night—the man Jason had called Winters—and quickly changed her plans.  Despite that fact that she had Jason's claim to protect her, Mimi didn't feel safe around that stupid, drunken ox.  So she wandered the passageways of the _Vengeance, growing to know her by heart.  She knew she should return either to the cabin or the galley, but it was such a relief to have time to herself for the first time in weeks._

Mimi had lost track of time when she noticed a change in the ship's crew.  Always before, they had seemed laidback in their duties.  The few times she had passed a man in the corridors, they had offered either assistance or an insolent remark.  Suddenly, pirates were rushing by at break-neck speed, not even noticing her as she stood in a vacant doorway.  A buzz of excitement was in the air, and footsteps thundered above deck, shaking the ceiling above her.  

Then, just as dramatically, all the commotion ceased.  Not a man walked past her, not a movement could be discerned from above deck.  Intrigued, and never one to shy away from curiosity, Mimi began to make her own way topside.  She had just stepped onto the final ladder when an explosion rocked the ship and sent her tumbling.  Jumping back to her feet when the shaking stopped, she rushed up the ladder and peeked onto the deck.

Bedlam met her eyes.  Everywhere, men were running, screaming, fighting.  The clash of metal against metal sounded in her ears, along with the occasional roar of a gun shot.  The fresh sea air was polluted with the acrid smells of sweat, blood, and smoke.  Like a sickening dream, Mimi found herself approaching the epicenter of this violence, unable to run or look away, though bile rose in her throat.

Across the slim divide of ship railings, dozens of men lay dead and dying.  A man was stabbed to her right, and she stumbled forward, sure she was going to be sick.  She leaned on the railing for support but pulled away again when her hand touched something wet and sticky.  By the light of the flames, Mimi saw the unmistakable crimson color of blood.  Her horror caught up to her then.  She screamed, but her cries were lost among the dozens of others raised by the wounded and victorious.  

Thought and action returned to Mimi as she forced herself to look amidst the rage-distorted faces for the one she knew would keep her safe.  Jason was not to be found anywhere, but in the chaos, she discovered the form of Captain Blackheart, nearly bathed in blood.  With the fire flickering upon his masked face, he seemed some horrifying specter of death.  All the fear of him which had been slowly disappearing returned double-force as she watched him disembowel a man, then calmly turn around and begin dueling another.

This man must have been a better swordsman than the last, for Blackheart seemed to struggle with him.  As their swords met, sparks erupted between them, and Mimi stood watching, spellbound with terror.  Blackheart forced the soldier back, with a ringing blow of his cutlass.  Not to be defeated, the Spaniard struck back, slashing open the pirate's forearm.  Mimi felt herself grow ill at the wound, but Blackheart seemed unaware of his own injury.  He fought off the next attack with an even greater fury.  Blood was dripping onto his hand, slicking the sword hilt and making it harder to get a firm grip.  Still, he battled, striking blow after blow upon the unfortunate soldier.  With one final effort, he ran his cutlass through the man's heart, before dropping to his knees on the surface of the deck.  

Unaware where her courage came from, Mimi began running towards him, wanting to help him.  She could at least stop the bleeding.  Hands reached out and grabbed her roughly, bringing another scream to her lips.  She was twisted until she looked upon the sweat-soaked face of a Spanish sailor.  "_Cómo__ usted consiguió aquí?" _

She shook her head, trembling.  "I…I'm sorry.  I d-don't speak Spanish."

His hold on her tightened, as he demanded, "_Usted__ sabe una manera de escapar este massacre?"_

"I don't know what you're saying!" Mimi panicked, struggling to free herself as she felt his hot breath on her face.  

"_Un bar—"  The man froze suddenly, his eyes widening and his mouth freezing mid-word.  He fell forward into her, and Mimi nearly collapsed under his weight, before she felt other arms pulling him off of her.  _

Mimi stumbled backwards as her frightened green eyes looked straight into the fierce emeralds shining in Jason's dirty face.  Her gaze drifted down to the Spaniard lying dead at her feet, a bloody wound in his back.  Slowly, she brought her focus onto the gleaming, blood-soaked weapon by Jason's side.  "You…you killed him.  You—"  Her breath caught, her eyes rolled back, and her knees gave out, all conspiring to make Mimi Lockhart faint for the first time in her life.  

Jason wrapped her in his arms before she could collapse.  Without apparent effort, he swept her up and wove his way out of the fighting masses.  The flames had already begun to die.  Most of the Spaniards had been murdered, and the battle was over.  He caught sight of Brady, still kneeling on the ground, a pile of dead men around him.  Jason knew if he had been close enough, he would have seen silent tears streaming down his friend's cheeks.  In the midst of the combat, Brady lost sight of the horror.  It was only after the damage was done that his guilt threatened to choke him.  

Jason pushed Brady out of his thoughts, as he brought Mimi safely back to the _Vengeance, setting her down only when they had reached the other side of the boat, and the ruins of the Spanish ship were blocked from view by a large tarp.  He patted her cheek lightly to revive her.  "Mimi, Mimi, it's all right.  It's me, Jason.  You're safe now."_

Mimi blinked her eyes open slowly, rubbing her face.  The moment she did, she shot up, staring in horror at her red hands.  "Oh God, oh God, oh God…"

He caught her shaking hands in his and held them still.  "Mimi, it's over," he told her gently.  "It's all over."

She nodded, though the appalled look remained on her face and the wretched _knowing remained in her eyes.  She would never, as long as she lived, forget what she had seen that night.  It would haunt her all her days.  "Oh God, Jason," she breathed, finally coming to herself.  "Hold me.  Please, just hold me."_

In a moment, she was wrapped tightly in his arms, her face buried in his shoulder as she cried.  His hands ran through her hair, as he whispered reassuring words to her.  Neither could see the blood streaks left behind in her auburn tresses.  Tears continued to stream down her face, wetting Jason's torn shirt with a substance far purer than the ones already soaking it.  They clung to each other, trying to forget the monstrosities they had witnessed—and in Jason's case, participated in.  The battle was over.  The memory of it would never go away.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Twelve**

She prayed the dawn would never come.  How could the sun bear to show its face after a night so full of death and destruction?  Yet the bright yellow orb showed no hesitance as it made its cheery path above the horizon.  It cared nothing for the lifeless bodies illuminated by its rays.  It refused to leave in shadow the young woman afraid to open her eyes and witness the carnage.

Even as she noticed the lightening of the sky, Mimi buried her face deeper into Jason's shoulder, unwilling to face the aftermath of the horror.  She held onto an irrational hope that if she stayed long enough in Jason's arms, everything that had happened the night before—even her memories of it—would be washed away.  Such dreams were doomed to fail from their inception, as Blackheart's interrupting voice was soon to prove.

"Jase, we need you!"

Jason slowly disentangled himself from Mimi, but he kept his eyes locked on her distressed face, his hands resting possessively on her shoulders.  "I have to go now.  Will you be all right if I leave you here?"  His deep green eyes bored into her, as though he could impart some of his strength to her.

Mimi shook her head, dirty, tangled locks of hair sticking to her face.  Her fingers unconsciously dug into his skin as she pleaded wordlessly for him to stay with her.  Speech was beyond her reach at this moment.

Jason groaned, his loyalties torn between his impatiently waiting captain and the terrified young beauty clinging to his side.  "I have to go, Mimi."

"Then take me with you," she begged, burying herself once again in his embrace.  His arms were so strong; his heartbeat so sure.  Mimi felt safe with him, in a world that was grown suddenly dangerous.  Jason had killed for her once.  She knew he would protect her for all time.

Jason shook his head in a definitive no.  "Mimi, look at how upset you are already.  You're trembling; you've only now stopped crying.  I'm not about to let you confront all this again."

She was suddenly aware of how weak and defenseless she must seem to Jason at that moment; utterly dependent, the one thing she had vowed never to be.  Coming to her senses, Mimi pushed out of his embrace, smoothing out the lines in her dress as well as she could.  "I'm fine now, Jason," she returned, hoping she sounded more poised than she felt.  "You don't need to worry about me.  Go right ahead an—"

"Jase, come on," Blackheart ordered, interrupting Mimi's display of female independence.  He approached the pair, his manner softening when he noticed Mimi's unkempt state—the blood on her hands, clothes and face; the red-rimmed eyes; the clear tear tracks down her smudged face.  He knew immediately his messenger had gone astray, and she had been forced to witness the battle.  "I'm so sorry, mistress."

The pirate's voice was unaccountably gentle, and Mimi braved a look at the man how only hours ago had filled her heart with dread.  Still bathed in blood—his own with all the rest—he nevertheless stood before her again as a man of honor, grieving for her misery.  "It's not your fault, Captain," she found herself saying, much to her own surprise.

Blackheart's face showed how little he believed her words, but he turned aside from the reminder of his guilt to confront his first mate.  "Sorry to interrupt, Jase, but the prisoners turned out to be natives.  They don't speak English or Spanish.  I tried.  They didn't understand Hans or Albert either."

"You mean there are still people alive on that boat?" Mimi put in incredulously.

"They're the reason we took it in the first place," he explained.  "It's a slave ship.  Despite the atrocity you unfortunately witnessed, a hundred lives were spared a fate worse than death.  Whether that makes what we did excusable or not…"  Blackheart shrugged, leaving that question to be answered by more philosophical minds than his own.

"I want to see them," she decided.  Nothing was left in her now of the frightened, trembling child Jason had comforted mere minutes ago.  Mimi Lockhart stood before them now a pinnacle of determined womanhood.  "Take me with you."

Jason frowned.  "I don't think that—"

"No, Jason, let her come," the captain stopped him, his blue eyes filled with a strange light as he gazed down upon the petite maid.  He barely knew what made him grant her permission, only a vague notion that her blessing upon their actions once she had seen the reason for them might prove a balm upon the self-reproach that tortured him daily.  "This way, mistress."

So saying, he led the defiant Mimi and the reluctant Jason back to the doomed Spanish vessel.  Shortly, it would be scuttled and sent to the bottom of the sea, but first they must relieve it of its precious cargo.  Much to Mimi's relief, the bodies of the dead were already disposed of or hidden beneath the tattered topsail.  While a few members of the pirate crew were occupied in transporting chests of Spanish goods and treasure to the _Vengeance_'s hold, the larger portion was involved in making preparations for the accumulation of an hundred more hungry, sick, and wearied passengers.

Mimi followed Captain Blackheart down narrow ladder after narrow ladder, the stench escalating to the point where she wished she—like Belle—always thought to have a scented handkerchief with her to block unpleasant odors.  Urine, feces, vomit, and sweat combined to form the most wretched picture of human suffering she had ever encountered.

Blackheart paused by the door, giving a small nod to Jason, who stepped closer to Mimi, grasping her arm possessively.  The door was opened, and Mimi felt her will give way at the atrocities which met her eyes.  Men, women, and children alike were shoved into a room not large enough for a quarter their number.  Frightened, starved faces with hollow eyes looked up at their entrance, then quickly averted their gazes.  Babies screamed, while mothers—incapable of easing their misery—stared straight ahead, so used to the noise they were insensible to it.  All ages and races mixed together in one mass of desolate humanity.  

A few crew members were trying—unsuccessfully—to communicate with the prisoners in a variety of languages: English, French, and Dutch.  A few political prisoners of those races had moved towards the doorway, tears of joy streaming down their faces at their liberty.  But most of them sat still in despair, unsure whether these new men were friend or foe.

Jason took one look at the sight and grimaced, stumbling to the center of the room and speaking in a loud, clear voice.  "_Ocama-quay-ari__' daneke'."_

Mimi was as shocked as the native people when Jason began speaking in their strange tongue.  How had he learned such a thing?  Yet she saw the faces around her turn towards him, and some of their fear disappeared.  

"_Datiao__.  _Gua'kia___ bara akani.  Gua'rico guaki'a kai choreto."_

A tribesman, wearing nothing but a loincloth—which caused Mimi to turn her head away in shame—pushed his way through the crowd.  "_Guata_!___  Anki arijua!"_

His vehemence caused Mimi to draw nearer towards the protection of the pirates, but Jason seemed undeterred.  "_Daca__ guatiao Ara'guacu'," Jason countered.  "__Nanichi__ uara'."_

Mimi watched in awe as Jason took off his shirt—though she couldn't fathom the reason why.  All she saw were the strong, bronzed muscles working in his back and shoulders.  Then he turned around, and she bit back a gasp at the strange red and black markings across his chest.  Whatever they were, they worked a marvel on the formally forbidding people.  They seemed to accept Jason's word, and as he rattled off several more phrases in the odd language, the people began willingly to move towards the doorway.  Mimi pushed herself to the wall to avoid being crushed from the flow of people towards freedom.  Jason tried to weave his way back to her, but his way was impeded by a rambunctious little girl who had run ahead of her family.  He chuckled, swooping her up from the fray.  

Her mother moved towards them, clucking her disapproval.  "_Tanama_!_" she scolded her child._

Mimi watched as Jason's face turned ashen.  He passed the little girl to her mother's arms as though she had grown fangs.  Turning, he pushed his way through the crowd, and Mimi lost sight of him.  She frowned, disturbed by the bizarre change.  After waiting for the crowd to thin, she climbed to the deck and searched around her.  There was pandemonium as the crew tried to communicate through signs that the freed prisoners should board the other ship.  Children ran everywhere, their laughter the most apparent relief at being released from the fetid quarters.  Men still held back, their gazes distrustful and impassive as they studied the white men.  Jason was nowhere to be seen.

Drawn by instinct, she made her way back to the _Vengeance_, to the same overlooked corner where Jason had spirited her away only hours earlier.  There he was, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared out across the ocean.  Mimi surmised his thoughts had drifted farther than the horizon to some distant shore of memory.  Looking at him, lost in unnamed pain, she felt an hitherto unknown emotion assault her.  

She pitied him.  She longed to hold him and care for him as he had done for her.  Yet it went beyond that.  She wanted to replace the sorrow in his eyes with joy, wanted to make him forget all the past wounds in his life and focus solely on the present…on her.  With this in mind, she slipped down to his side, her hand resting gently on his knee to draw him back to her.

Jason started at her touch.  His gaze when first it settled upon her was that of a stranger, a cold, hard stranger.  Recognition set in, but the rage still lurked in his eyes.  "What do you want?"

Mimi refused to flinch at his harsh words.  "I want to know what troubles you," she pressed gently.  "What is it that pains you so?  Is it these people?  How do you know their language?"

Jason stood up, roughly pushing away her comforting touch.  "You ask too many questions.  My past is nothing to you."

"Nor mine to you, yet you know it."  Mimi scrambled to her feet, unwilling to let him get away so easily.  She blocked his path to the rest of the ship, crossing her arms.  Her stance was determined; her gaze challenging.

"Move, Mimi," Jason bit out through gritted teeth and clenched jaw.

"No," she shot back, unaffected.  "Not until you tell me.  I saw the change in you with that little girl.  It all started with that word her mother spoke.  What was it again?"

The pirate emitted a defeated sigh.  "_Tanama_.  It means 'butterfly.'"  He wished she would—yet knew she wouldn't—be satisfied by such an answer.  It answered nothing at all.  Yet even voicing the name was painful to him.  Mimi didn't reply to his statement, waiting patiently for a more thorough explanation.  Jason groaned, running his hand back through his hair.  "Look, Mimi, they need me to help get the people settled.  I don't have time for this right now."

"You're right," she agreed easily, surprising him.  Still, she stood with no apparent intentions of moving.  

"Thank you.  Then…"  He gestured his intention of leaving, but she put a delaying hand to his chest.  

"I understand you have your duty to attend to now, Jase, but as soon as everything is settled, we are going to talk about this."

He raised an eyebrow at her imperious tone.  "I don't believe you are in the position to be dispensing orders, Mistress Lockhart," he observed coolly.

Mimi flushed.  This was the first time Jason had ever treated her like an inferior.  Much as it galled, she had to admit Jason had a point.  Who was she after all?  A maid.  A captive.  For a moment, her resolve weakened.  Then she looked up into the tortured face and knew she had to see this through.  He had been protecting her from the moment she first saw him aboard the _Dolphin, saving her from his crew, Spanish soldiers, and her own fears.  It was her turn to repay the favor.  She laid a soft hand on his muscled arm.  "Jason, I know you need me.  Maybe you don't know it yet, but you do.  I won't—I _refuse_ to let you push me away, not after all we have been through together."  _

Something about the earnestness of her words convinced him.  Further argument would be futile.  "All right," Jason relented, his voice scarcely above a whisper and laced with pain.  They stood like that for a moment, the salty Trade Winds blowing over them unnoticed.  The breeze wreaked havoc with Mimi's already ravished hair, and Jason reached up to smooth the flying tendrils.  But the touch became a caress, as his hand made contact with the smooth surface of her cheek.  

Mimi's soft sigh and hooded eyes gave silent proof to his effect upon her, and her hand reached up to cover his.  All around them was chaos.  Behind them was a night of fury and death; ahead was an uncertain and dangerous future.  But in that moment, Jason and Mimi each found a measure of peace to carry them through the storm.

~~*~~

[Jason's conversation is in Taino, a Native Caribbean language.  A rough translation follows:

A few crew members were trying—unsuccessfully—to communicate with the prisoners in a variety of languages: English, French, and Dutch.  A few political prisoners of those races had moved towards the doorway, tears of joy streaming down their faces at their liberty.  But most of them sat still in despair, unsure whether these new men were friend or foe.

Jason took one look at the sight and grimaced, stumbling to the center of the room and speaking in a loud, clear voice.  "_Hear me, my people!"_

Mimi was as shocked as the native people when Jason began speaking in their strange tongue.  How had he learned such a thing?  Yet she saw the faces around her turn towards him, and some of their fear disappeared.  

"_I am your friend.  We have killed your enemy.  Come to us for nourishment in abundance."_

A tribesman, wearing nothing but a loincloth—which caused Mimi to turn her head away in shame—pushed his way through the crowd.  "_Liar!__  Evil foreigner!"_

His vehemence caused Mimi to draw nearer towards the protection of the pirates, but Jason seemed undeterred.  "_I am adopted of the Sacred People," Jason countered.  "__My heart is with you."]_

~~*~~

Chloe's restlessness had reached fever pitch.  As the hours slowly passed away, those about her had dropped one by one into restless sleep.  Belle slumbered with her head in her father's lap, as Lord Black nodded back and forth with every roll of the ship.  Jan had fallen asleep while still at her prayers, and even Kevin dozed at his watch.  But Chloe could not rest.  She could not even sit still, instead pacing the small room over and over until her head spun.

She was terrified.  Originally, her worry had been confined to Brady, but after Belle's reminder, she had been almost hysterical to be assured of Mimi's safety.  At least Brady was capable of defending himself.  But Mimi…she tried not to let herself think of it.  Kevin had flatly refused to let them search for her, citing orders to keep them out of harm's way.  John had tried to comfort the two girls by suggesting their friend had taken refuge in either the galley or her cabin, but Chloe was far from convinced.

So she paced.  All through the long, fitful hours of the black night, she kept a vigil of half-formed hopes and unarticulated prayers for her best friend and the man she loved.  She was the only one awake to see the first rays of light steal their way through the solitary porthole.  As the warmth begin to sink into her chilled bones, a wave of hope swept over her.  She knew they were all right.  Without any news having reached her, Chloe simply _knew any moment Brady and Mimi would come walking through that door.  _

As if in confirmation of her premonition, the approved knock boomed loud enough to pull the dreamers back to consciousness.  Kevin jumped up and threw open the door, allowing entry to the three welcome personages on the other side.  Without a thought for propriety, Chloe threw her arms around the dirty, disheveled maid the moment she entered.  "Mimi, are you all right?  We were so worried!  Belle and I wanted to go find you, but _he wouldn't let us."  She cast a haughty, scathing glance in the direction of the second mate._

"Good for him," Mimi muttered, leaning weakly into the lady's embrace.  If she had been in more possession of her senses, she would have recognized the social breach and pulled away, but the events of last night made all former concerns seem petty in comparison.  She was grateful for the support offered in Chloe's comforting arms and panicked words.  If was reassuring to know they had worried about her.  

"What happened to you?" John demanded, as Belle took her turn clasping the returned maid to her.  "I thought they were sending someone to fetch you."  He glared accusingly at the pirate captain, stoic through all this.  But his anger swiftly turned to concern as he saw the heavy concentration of blood on his sleeve.  A swift warning from the flashing blue eyes kept him from mentioning anything about the injury in front of the ladies.

"Don't blame Captain Blackheart," Mimi interposed, pulling away from her mistress to defend their captors.  "I left the galley and wandered around the ship.  It's my own fault I saw any of it."  She began to tremble again, her knees about to give way.  The third arrival stepped forward, bracing her with a hand beneath her elbow.  She graced Jason with a tired smile.  Of course he would notice her weakness.

"Your Lordship, perhaps these questions could wait until Mistress Lockhart has had a chance to rest from her ordeal," Jason put in smoothly, earning yet another grateful glance from his lady.  

A frown descended on Lord Black's customarily stern features as he noticed the increasing familiarity between his daughter's maid and the pirate.  He could perhaps approve of Chloe's love for the captain, but only because he still harbored a secret belief that the enigmatical man might yet turn out to be his son resurrected.  Of this Masters fellow, he knew absolutely nothing and didn't find it appropriate that Mimi should be neglecting her care of Belle to take up with the ruffian.

But he was spared the responsibility of answering by his overeager charges.  Belle and Chloe both swooped upon Mimi's sides—displacing Jason, much to her silent dismay—and formed a supportive buttress around her.  "Of course, Mimi," Belle answered for the both of them.  "Come on.  We'll get you to bed right now.  You shall not do a single thing the rest of the day.  You poor thing."

"I am fine, m'lady," Mimi protested, a blush rising to her cheeks.  She wasn't used to being the center of attention, especially not with the ladies she had been serving most of her life.  "Honestly, all of this fussing is not called for."

"Yes, it is," interposed the captain, his eyes resting once again on the blood on Mimi's hands and dress, his face becoming shadowed with guilt.  "No woman should ever see what you have.  You need time to recuperate, Mistress.  Jase and I will escort all of you back to your cabins, and then food will be immediately sent up.  You must be famished by now."

Mimi faced him, annoyed at being treated like a child.  "Not as starving as those poor souls you rescued.  Why don't you care for them instead?"

"What poor souls?" asked Belle, her sympathies immediately aroused.  

"The _Vengeance _freed some hundred prisoners from a Spanish slave ship," Mimi explained, when neither Jason nor the captain seemed eager to make an account of the night before.  "They are being brought on board as we speak.  Mostly women and children, scared and starving.  If anyone is in need of rest and sustenance, it is them."

"Believe me, mistress, that is all being taken care of.  This is not the first time the _Vengeance has been responsible for feeding the starving.  Our galley is well-stocked with provisions, which are being dispensed even as we speak."_

Belle's hand fluttered to her chest, her gentle heart moved with pity.  "Oh, might we be of some assistance, Captain?  I have helped in the poor houses in London, and I believe I might be a helpful nurse to them."

"I don't think that would be a good idea," Jason declared.  "Begging your pardon, m'lady, I know you mean well.  But these are not poor, sick Englishmen.  These are a proud people who have been subjected to despicable slavery and oppression.  They do not even speak the same language as you.  Your white skin would be held against you before you had so much as laid one hand to a child's brow."

"You could act as an interpreter," Mimi supplied, staring him down.  "You speak their language, and if there was any kind of disturbance, you could see us safely out of there."

Jason rounded on her, green eyes narrowing.  "You have seen for yourself what these people are like.  Miserable, starving, sick, and bitter.  Why would you want to expose your lady to that?"

"I know my lady, sir, and she will be able to ease their sufferings.  You have not seen her as I have, moving among the miserable, the starving, the sick, and the bitter.  I have heard them whisper as she passes that an angel of mercy walked among them.  Lady Black has a way about her that brings comfort to all in pain.  Take her to the people.  You shall see for yourself."

Belle stared at her maid, surprised by her fervent defense.  Her normally pale cheeks turned a demure rose.  "I'm hardly an angel, Mimi.  But if I can be any help to these people, I will gladly serve them."

Jason looked ready to argue the point further, but Brady stepped in before he could.  He was impressed by this glowing description of his sister and felt his pride in her growing by the moment.  Nevertheless, he left it to his father's discretion.  "Lord Black, she is your child.  What do you say?"

John surveyed the young people surrounding him, from Jason's reluctance, to Blackheart's curiosity, to Mimi's pride in her mistress.  But his eyes settled on the glowing eyes of his daughter.  It was the first time since leaving England he had seen in her the spirit of life.  He could hardly deny her what she desired.  "Bring her to them.  But swear on your life, she will be safe."

"As always, sir, you have my word."  The captain offered a small bow.  

Lord Black nodded and embraced his daughter once more, offering her a parting kiss on the forehead.  "Take care, my Izzy."

She smiled up at him, her beatific smile evidence of why she had been given an angelic title.  "I will, Father.  Don't worry.  No harm will come to me.  I am safe with these men."  She looked with unfailing trust at the pirate captain.

John sighed, resigned to letting Belle go her own way in the world.  "I am content, Captain.  I believe you will want this back."  He proffered the sword entrusted to him the night before.

The pirate stared askance at the weapon, much as his father had done when he had offered it to him.  "You're returning it to me?  I would think you would wish to keep it."

"If you feel it is in the best interest of my daughter's and my own safety for me to be locked in this room, then here I shall remain.  I trust you, Captain…with my life."

Brady felt the full weight of the statement settle upon him.  He felt humbled by his father's faith.  The deep blue eyes, so much like his own, were staring into him, as if he somehow guessed there was some connection binding them together.  Could he know…?  "Keep your sword, Your Lordship.  While I doubt any true risk to you is aboard my ship, I do however believe your safety is more greatly assured here with a guard than elsewhere.  But your sword is your own.  Use it as you see fit."

John bowed, feeling his pride in the man before him growing by the moment.  Oh, if only he might be…!  Only time would tell.  With one last kiss for each of the girls, he retreated to the barred cell, allowing himself once more to be locked in.  The others shuffled slowly from the room, leaving only Kevin as guard.

~~*~~

They had seen her as weak.  They had likened her to a porcelain doll, beautiful yet easily shattered.  Not one among them—except perhaps her maid—had before glimpsed in the delicate Lady Isabella Black a hint of strength or courage.  So it was with great curiosity that all eyes fixed upon her as she was led into the hold where the rescued captives were being settled.  Perhaps no one was more interested in how she would respond than the masked captain, who stood back from the scene, folded his arms, and watched the drama enfold.

Belle looked around her, her eyes instantly memorizing every precious face, from the infirm to the elderly, the starving to the sick.  Jason stood in front of all of them, ready to act as interpreter and guard if need be.  Indeed, the same man who had accused Jason that morning jumped to his feet at the entrance of the ladies and spit upon the ground near them.  

Belle barely took notice of him, however.  She did not pay attention to the distrustful murmurings, the smell of an unwashed mass, the near nakedness of most of the people.  After her first cursory glance, she rolled up the sleeves of her extravagant dress and made her way across the room to where pirates were trying to distribute food to a crowd of natives.  At Belle's approach, they suddenly melted back, allowing the white-swathed vision to pass.  

"You'll never get everyone food that way," she announced to the two pirates behind the baskets of bread and cheese and the barrels of water and rum.  "Wait a minute."

Hawk and Ty looked over at their captain, leaning negligently against the wall.  He gave a curt nod, indicating they should listen to the lady's instructions.  Belle once again took in the scene, the families all picking portions of the ship's surface to lay claim to for the remainder of the voyage.  She looked at the children and frowned.  "Is this the best you can do for quarters?  These women and children should not be sleeping on the hard wood.  Are there any spare cots?"

"None that are not in use, m'lady," Jason volunteered, even his worry about the repercussions of letting the ladies see this sight melting into curiosity.  He felt an air of command in the petite blonde—not unlike the one her brother had.  

She frowned, biting her lip as her attention became focused on an elderly couple.  "Then, at the least, take my bed and give it to those poor souls.  And let some of those dresses be brought down to serve as blankets.  You wouldn't mind taking them apart, would you, Mimi?"

"No, my lady," Mimi agreed, smiling as Belle began to work her magic.  She knew in no time at all Belle would have the run of the ship.

"There is no need for that," Blackheart spoke up, still not having moved from his position, yet paying eager attention to the conversation.  "There are chests of blankets in the treasure hold.  I will have them brought immediately.  And as for cots, my men and I will give up ours.  At least there will be enough for the women."

The two pirates gawked at their captain.  Though they had taken many slave ships in their time, this was the first time they had been required to give up their personal comfort to do so.  They weren't all that pleased with the concept, but one look at the captain's face silenced them.  They turned to Jase, their expressions pleading, but he too seemed impressed by the lady's gesture and more than willing to make a similar sacrifice.  

"Thank you, gentlemen."  Lady Black's saintly smile was enough of a reward to conquer even their doubts.  They found themselves grinning and thinking they would gladly sacrifice their fortunes ten times over to see that smile again.  "Now, as to the food, don't make them come and take it.  These people are starving.  They have probably been deprived of food for weeks.  Let us at least do them the courtesy of bringing the food to them.  That will give us the chance to see who among them is ill as well.  Mimi, Chloe, Jan, and I will take care of that."  She looked over the food supply once more.  "Is there any fruit left, like you have been giving to us?  They could use a more balanced diet.  Or perhaps some fish?"

"Well, I…I don't rightly know, lady," Hawk supplied, scratching his head.  "I suppose we could catch some if we need to."

"Let all the men who don't have duties at the moment look to their nets," the captain ordered.  "Consider Lady Black to be my representative in all things related to these people.  Anything she asks for, any assistance she requires, will be granted her immediately."

Belle turned towards him, smiling.  She knew her feeling about him had been right.  "Thank you, Captain.  I shall try to do your faith justice.  Now, to work, ladies."  Not waiting for the other three to follow her, she grabbed a mug and began ladling water into it.  Once filled, she took it to the elderly couple who had caught her attention before and knelt beside them, personally holding it up to the woman's lips.  She spoke quiet, reassuring words of comfort, even though she knew they could not understand her.

The others watched in awe for a moment, struck by the singular beauty of the scene.  Then, the lady stood, looking at them all in irritation, and they instantly sprang into action.

~~*~~

Brady didn't make his exit immediately.  He wanted his withdrawal to be as inconspicuous as possible, so he waited until all the others were engaged.  The pirates had long since abandoned the room, for fear of more orders descending on them form the lady's lips.  Chloe, Mimi, and Jan were obediently distributing food, while Belle lagged behind, examining the people's well-being with Jason acting as interpreter.  

The captain saw his moment and took it, slipping from the room virtually unnoticed.  Any fear he might have harbored for his sister's safety had disappeared as he witnessed her interaction with the freed prisoners.  He had seen her gentle care of them, and in their eyes, he had seen a reciprocal tenderness for the _Yu' goeiz_, the "white spirit."  Lady Isabella Black was beyond question a uniquely compassionate woman, and they recognized it.

Brady could gladly have watched her administer mercy for the remainder of the day, but a neglected task needed to be looked to.  Brady made his way down to an uninhabited storage room, waiting until he was safely ensconced within its walls to allow the unabating pain show on his face.  The sleeve of his tattered shirt was soaked in crimson blood—his own blood.  The rag he had haphazardly tied around his slit forearm had done nothing to staunch the flow, and he was feeling light-headed with the loss of the life-giving substance.

Cursing, he found the small basin stored there and opened a barrel of water, awkwardly attempting to fill the one with the other.  Finally succeeding, he stripped off his shirt.  Blood covered most of his torso, and he cringed from the knowledge that the majority of it was not his own.  The harm he had inflicted last night made an injured arm seem paltry indeed.  Slowly, wincing from the pain, he unknotted the makeshift bandage, and the long slit up his forearm was visible to him for the first time in daylight.

"You should have let Belle tend you.  She knows how to deal with such things.  Now, you'll have to settle for me."

Brady's head shot up as he saw Lady Chloe standing in the half-open doorway of the small room.  Her eyes were grave as they rested on the open wound, but her words were lightly spoken.  "What the hell are you doing here?" he spit out, angry that anyone—but especially her—should see him weakened.

Chloe was unperturbed by his anger.  She entered the room, shutting the door firmly behind her—as he had neglected to do.  "I saw you leave, and I knew you would need my help. I've been worried about that wound for hours.  I thought you were going to collapse before you let anyone see to it."

His eyes raked over her suspiciously.  "I was under the impression you never wanted to see me again, Lady Wesley.  What changed your mind?"

She flushed t the reminder, and her gaze faltered, but she stepped to his side without hesitation.  "A night of worrying you might be dead, and a day of seeing the color drain from your face.  Now, will you please let me dress your wound before you ask any more questions?"

Brady considered toying with her a while longer, but the plainly-evident concern in her face stopped him.  He nodded reluctantly and extended his arm to her, curious to see how she would react.  A slight shudder of revulsion passed through Chloe's body, but she quickly pushed her disgust aside to focus on a plan of action.  Without a word to the pirate, she set her foot on a low box, lifted the violet skirts of her dress to her knees, and viciously tore the lowest hem of her petticoat all the way round.  

Mimi would kill her for destroying the garment she had worked so hard to perfect, but she could deal with her anger later.  Brady was all that mattered now.  She pulled the loosened fabric free and brought it to the basin, as unconcerned as if she had merely plucked a rag from a pile.  Dipping the material into the water and wringing it out, Chloe took hold of Brady's arm, gently supporting it from beneath.  

Her cool touch was as soothing as the water she used to wipe away the blood and grime surrounding the cut.  She cleaned the area with slow strokes, the water falling down and landing in the golden hairs of his arm and on her delicate artist's fingers.  She rinsed the cloth several times during her task, and Brady saw with growing dismay the increasingly blood-tinged water.  Chloe spoke not a word, either of sympathy or reproach, concentrating fully on her mission.  She disappeared once, taking the washbasin with her and returning only a minute later with it emptied.  She refilled the bowl and went silently back to work.  

Finally, he could see nothing but his arm and the slash.  All the dried blood and caked-on filth had been removed, and Brady was relieved to see the injury wasn't as great as he feared.  Chloe's mind was obviously eased as well, for a smile flitted over her lips for the first time since she had followed him down here.  She once again went through the ritual of tearing from her petticoat, and this time, Brady was gifted with a display of her perfect, smooth calves displayed under the shortened undergarment.  

She wrapped the bandage tightly round his arm with painstaking precision.  "There," she finally spoke, satisfied.  "You're going to need to change that every day or two, so the wound stays clean."

"That might present a problem," he returned solemnly, only the light in his eyes giving him away.  A questioning glance was her only response.  "I don't think your petticoat will last that long."

A heated blush rose to Chloe's cheeks, and she abruptly dropped his arm.  "If you're going to be vulgar, I'll leave now."  She turned on her heel and marched towards the door only to be flung around by his grip on her arm.

"I apologize, my lady."  His words were sincere, and Chloe could see the heart-felt gratitude in his eyes.  He was actually glad she had come to care for him.  "Thank you."

The predictable color heightened the natural glow of her face, as she demurred a proper answer.  "It was no trouble, Captain.  I was glad to be of assistance."  

Awkward silence descended upon them after that, and Brady began to regret forcing her to stay.  It was too hard standing so near to her, memories flooding him of her passionate and trembling in his arms, and not being able to touch her again.  The temptation was too great; the craving too heady.  "I, uh…"

His voice was low and husky as it tickled her senses.  The way he was looking at her—the same struggle between duty and desire she had seen in him before—made her weak in the knees.  His bronze chest was bare before her, and she longed to run her fingers along its hot, sleek surface.  The blood, sweat, and smoke that clung to him, instead of distracting from his charms, made him even more dangerous, mysterious, desirable.  

That look entered her eyes again, that feral gleam of a woman being driven by an ardor overriding her own will, and Brady knew this time he had to stop it before anything started.  There would be no turning back if he didn't.  With that thought in mind, he clasped his hands to her shoulders, forcing her to meet his own stern gaze.  "Lady Wesley, I need you to understand something about me.  What I do is not glamorous.  I'm no hero.  You have got to stop making me your fantasy.  This…"  He gestured to the blood still coating his other arm and most of his chest.  "This is the life's blood of men—both good and bad.  Do you understand that?  These men, they're _dead…and it's all because of me."_

The light had left her eyes as she focused her gaze honestly for the first time on the grime covering him.  She blanched at the thought of the men it represented.  "But…but you did it for those people Belle's tending to now.  You were fighting for them."  She sounded desperate to convince herself of her own words.  

His answering laughter was bitter and mirthless.  "Don't fool yourself, my lady.  As no doubt Mistress Lockhart could tell you now, there is nothing noble in battle.  It's loud and filthy and disgusting, and something about the thrill of it gets under a man's skin and consumes him to commit horrible atrocities.  I killed seventeen men last night.  Seventeen men whose mothers, wives, and children will never see them again.  Never…"  

Chloe watched with pity as the formally unbreakable man seemed to choke on his own words, his hands rising to cover his face.  She saw the slump in his shoulders, the defeat and self-loathing in his body language.  She wanted to hold him in her arms and allow him to break down, but she knew he would never allow himself to be that vulnerable.  In another minute, he would be in complete control again, and his emotions would be as impenetrable as always.  Unless she ceased this one moment…unless she didn't give him a chance to close himself off from her.

Without thinking further ahead than that, without considering anything about trying to help ease his pain, Chloe again knelt and tore off a section of her rapidly decreasing petticoat, soaking it in the water.  As she approached Brady, he dropped his hands, looking at her in silent curiosity.  She met his stare with a silent, comforting one of her own as she closed the remaining distance between them.  

She rested the wet cloth against his shoulder, allowing the cleansing liquid to slide down his chest, leaving clearly discernable trails along his dirty skin.  And then she was rubbing it over his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his arms, washing away every last trace of the blood, as though that could erase his memories and pain as well.  She rinsed his body repeatedly, cloth after cloth being filled with the disturbing substance.  She didn't care.  If her petticoat was torn to shreds, she would use her dress.  All that mattered now was helping him in some way, showing she did truly understand.

Brady watched without moving, without saying a word, as he allowed her to wipe away the grime.  He studied her in fascination, measuring every rise and fall of her chest with her shallow breathing.  The close proximity of their bodies, coupled with the close air of the room was causing the heat to rise, even as the water cooled his burning skin.  

He understood the symbolism of her gesture, and it moved him.  She wanted to be able to take his pain away.  This beautiful lady whose innocence he had almost robbed was demanding the right to know his secrets and cure his anguish.  His mind demanded that he stop her.  He couldn't risk letting her get hurt—or being hurt himself.  But something deep inside—something he thought had died with his mother—refused to push her away.  He had spent too long shutting out everything good in life.  Now, with a simple touch, Chloe Wesley had forced her way through all his barriers.

Chloe scrubbed until the natural golden hue of his skin shone through, until there was no reminder of the battle waged the night before except on the red rags piled in one corner of the room.  And on his face.  She turned away to pull off one last cloth and dipped it in the water barrel, long since tired of emptying the basin.  She reached an unsteady hand to the back of his neck, blindly searching for the knot that held his mask in place.  Her sapphire eyes struck through the folds of black to both challenge and entreat his orbs of blue.  

He didn't pull away, as she had feared he would do.  That mask represented the shrouded mystery of his past, and they both knew letting go of it was tantamount to admitting her into his life.  Her hands, still slippery from the water, struggled to free the knot; her nervousness probably didn't help matters much either.  But at long last, she felt the tie give way, and the fabric floated harmlessly to the floor.  

Even as she lifted the cloth to wipe away the smudges on his face, Chloe's eyes devoured and memorized every inch of his countenance.  She took in the sun-bleached hair, lighter even than Belle's.  His eyes seemed even more brilliant when not hidden by the menacing disguise.  They seemed to her deeper even than the ocean they sailed upon.  She would never grow tired of learning their depths.  

Her hand slowed upon his cheek, and Brady looked down upon her questioningly.  "You look just like your father described you," she whispered almost reverently.

The blue eyes flamed, as the pirate came out of the virtual trance her touch had lulled him into.  "My father?  You talked to Lord Black about me?  What did you tell him?"  His hands pressed down upon her thin shoulders much harder than he intended, and she winced with the force of it.

"No, Brady.  I have kept your secret.  I told you I would.  I was talking about before I met you.  Lord Black told me about you once, about his little boy he thought was dead."  Her eyes filled with pity for the family she had come to think of almost as her own.  "He loves you very much, you know.  He loved your mother, too."

There was something liberating about hearing those words from her lips.  He knew now he wasn't deluding himself when he imagined John's soft expression when talking of Isabella.  "So then, he _did think we were dead?  That's why he never came for us?"_

Chloe saw clearly in the eagerness of both his tone and expression how deep that rejection went.  He had spent his whole life wondering if his father merely hadn't cared enough to save them.  "Oh, Brady," she murmured, again raising her hand to his cheek—this time not encumbered with the washrag, which had fallen unnoticed to the ground.  "Your father has been grieving for you all his life, you and your mother both.  He thought you had drowned when the boat sank in the storm.  He even took a boat out looking for you, to make sure, but he could find no trace of you.  They made him give you up as lost.  But he has never forgotten either of you."

Brady exhaled heavily as a burden he'd been living under his entire life was lifted.  His father had loved them.  He hadn't failed them, after all.  He looked down then upon the lady, feeling gratitude swell up among the myriad of other emotions he felt towards her.  He saw her stained and ruined dress.  He saw her hands marked with blood.  He saw the eyes full of understanding and empathy.  This was a woman he could love.  

If he had met her in any other lifetime, any other situation, he would have held her to him for all of his days.  Part of him yearned for such a luxury, even as he knew he could never drag her down with him.  Though his father might be cleared, it didn't change the fact that his life was ruined beyond repair from the events of his childhood.  He was still a murderer, a wanted man.  He had to make her see why it could never be.

Gently removing her fingers from his cheek, he took her hands in his own.  "Lady Wesley, I need to explain about the other night, about why I had to stop it."

"I know why," she interrupted quietly, surprising him.  "I was on deck when you promised Lord Black no harm would come to us, remember?  You were trying to be true to your word, and I respect that."  She laughed bitterly.  "The only one I blame for that night is myself.  I was acting brazenly.  I've always been headstrong, and I let it get the best of me sometimes.  Were it not for your respect for your honor, my own would be ruined beyond repair."

Brady was shocked, both by her understanding of the situation and her straightforwardness in handling it.  "My lady, make no saint of me.  If I were truly, as you say, a man of honor, I would never have allowed things to have progressed so far—or at all.  You had no clear picture of the precarious situation you were putting yourself in when you came to me, and I took advantage of that."

Chloe's mouth tipped wryly, as she gave a shake of her head that discounted his explanation.  "You are wrong, Captain.  I think I knew exactly what I was doing.  In fact, if I had it all to do over again, I probably would act no differently.  I…I'm drawn to you."  Her cheeks flamed as she spoke the last sentence, but her gaze didn't drop.  Instead, her eyes pierced him with their intensity.

"I could say the same of me towards you, but I will not," he returned solemnly, refusing to allow himself to get swept away again.  "Lady Wesley, emotions change as rapidly as the sea itself.  Passion can sweep us away if we let it, but when it is gone, what will we be left with?  Nothing, except an emptiness even greater than before."

"But I—"

"No," he stopped her harshly, leaning down to swoop up the discarded mask.  "You have a life before you, a family who loves you, a fiancé who is waiting for you.  I am a criminal.  I have lived my life outside all the laws of men, and I will die outside them as well.  Those are inescapable facts, my lady, however we may wish them changed."  He tied the mask on again and headed for the door.

Chloe watched him go, pricking back the tears that sprang too readily to her eyes.  He had accused her of not understanding, of romanticizing who he was.  Well, perhaps she had.  But now, she knew; she understood.  And—if possible—she loved him even more.

~~*~~

Belle eagerly resisted every effort of Mimi's to make her leave the hull and return to her own cabin for some rest.  The worried maid watched as hour after hour went by, and still the weakened lady continued to pour herself into caring for the sick passengers.  Never mind that the sweat shone on her brow, and her always pale face had gone white with exhaustion.  Jan Spears—suffering from none of the physical weaknesses of Lady Black—had returned to the cabin hours ago, yet still the lady lingered on.  Mimi began to regret ever telling Belle about these people.  Her mistress had yet to recover completely from her own illness, and here she was wasting her limited strength caring for others.  It was one of the qualities she so adored about Lady Black, but it was also what made her job such a trial.

Jason too watched the lady's unending labor with concern.  Several times he was on the point of insisting she get some rest, but then he would look into the eyes of an old woman touched by her presence, or hear the whispers of a child whose awe of the lady was almost godlike.  He couldn't deprive these people—_his _people—of their first source of hope since being captured by the Spanish.

The lady herself went on unheeding of the anxiety she was causing.  She had long since lost sight of Mimi in the crowd, and Jason's only purpose to her was as interpreter.  She silently determined that if they were to be on this ship for any length of time, she would have Jason teach the language to her.  She felt drawn to help these people.  Her heart told her that there was a connection between them and herself.  For the first time since leaving England, she felt neither weak, nor afraid, nor useless.  She had been given a purpose.

But all the resolves of her spirit could not detract from the fact that Belle was in no condition to be working on her feet for hours on end.  As hard as she tried to push away her bouts of lightheadedness, they were becoming more and more frequent.  She would have to pause for a moment and collect her balance, before moving on.  On one such occasion, as she began to sway, she felt Jason's hand at her elbow, supporting her.

"My lady, are you all right?" he asked anxiously.  The care she had shown for the people had made him think kindly of a girl who before he had no interest in.  "You've overextended yourself.  Let me take you back to your cabin.  You need rest."

She gently disengaged herself from his touch, shaking her head.  "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Masters, but I'm fine.  A slight lolling of the ship caught me off-guard.  That's all."  Resolutely, she pushed forward to the next cot, the next child who needed her.  

Groaning, Jason could only watch with a mixture of concern and admiration as she continued to offer comfort to the comfortless.  He saw Mimi begin to weave her way back through the crowd and caught the anxious look in her eyes as she watched her mistress.  Turning back to Belle, he understood why.  In the split-second his attention had been distracted, Belle had begun to wobble on her feet.  Her whole body began to trembled, and Jason knew she stood only moments from a total collapse.  

Using all his effort, he managed to close the distance between them, right before she fainted.  He caught her gently in his arms and cradled her there like the child she was.  In another moment, Mimi was beside them both, fussing over Belle, repeating her name over and over in an attempt to bring her back to consciousness.  "It's all right, Mimi," he soothed her.  "She'll be fine.  All she needs is a little rest.  Come on.  Let's take her back to the cabin."

Mimi nodded and followed Jason out of the hold.  In the small part of her mind not consumed with worry about her lady, she noticed that the people parted to let Jason pass, and soft words and softer looks trailed Belle until they left the room behind them.  Her eyes never left Jason as he carried Belle the seemingly unending distance to their cabin.  His steps never once faltered, and he took great pains to see the girl was never jostled.  She had never been more grateful for him than at that moment, witnessing the tender care he took of her mistress.

She opened the cabin door for him and watched as he lay Belle down upon the cot.  He was so gentle she never stirred as the switch was made from his arms to the bed.  He stood back and allowed Mimi to attend to her, providing her with water from the pitcher left for them every morning.  Belle woke up and smiled reassuringly at Mimi, then—thankfully—made no attempts to rise again.  In mere moments, she was asleep again.  

Mimi breathed a sigh of relief, as she saw Jason's words prove true.  All Belle needed was a good night's rest, and she would be well.  As she stretched from her attentions to her mistress, she realized the stiff neck that had been bothering her for hours was not going away.  She rotated her head in hope of relieving the pain, but it did little to nothing.  Then, she felt strong, soothing hands rest on her shoulders, and nimble fingers worked to smooth out the kinks.  She should have pulled away, but the feeling was too sublime.  She unwittingly relaxed into his touch.

Jason pushed her hair over her shoulders and concentrated his task on the soft, creamy skin of her neck.  In his concern for Belle's more obvious distress, he had not noticed until now the toll the day had put on Mimi as well.  He wished to show her she should be taken care of as completely as any lady in the world.  He massaged all the stress and tension out of her, feeling her ease into him.  He heard the small sigh that escaped her lips and smiled softly.  "You should get some sleep too, Mimi.  You must be even more exhausted than Lady Black, since you didn't get any rest last night either."

She pulled away abruptly, turning to face him.  "Nice try, Jase, but there's something we have to settle first."  At his blank look, she gave him a stern look.  "You are going to tell me how it is you know that language, what those red marks on your skin are, and why that little girl upset you so much."

The pirate groaned, running a hand back through his hair.  He supposed it would be too much to hope for that she would have forgotten about all that in the activity of the day.  "Look, Mimi, it's not important.  It all comes from my past, and the past should stay where it is."

Mimi laughed bitterly.  "I've spent my whole life believing that, Jason.  As soon as I got away from the docks, I put them away from me as though they had never been.  Belle and her father, they have no idea who my mother was or what she did.  I thought by not mentioning her, I could forget all about her.  But it doesn't work like that.  The things that happened to me as a child still affect who I am today.  You know that better than anyone.  You are the only person I've ever told about what happened.  Now, I think it's time you did the same."

"You ask too much of me."  He ran a hand down his face, exhaustion catching up to him as well.  "I can't talk about it, Mimi.  Let it be."  He would have left then, if she hadn't stepped in front of the door.  

"No," she argued fervently.  "You are not leaving this room until you tell me.  Tell me about _Tanama__, Jason."_

A pain too deep for words crossed over Jason's face, before being wiped away as though it had never been.  "You won't understand."

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, her defiant expression not changing.  "Try me."

Defeated, Jason sank onto the closed chest for a seat.  "You might as well sit down."  He gestured to the chair he had left vacant.  "This is going to take a while."

Mimi measured him for a moment, as if judging his sincerity.  Finally, she nodded and sank into the chair, her eyes glued to his face.  "I'm listening, Jase.  Take all the time you need."

Jason's caustic laughter filled the room.  There wasn't enough time in the world to prepare him for this.  "Would it surprise you to learn I'm part Spanish?"  The eye-widening shock that crossed over Mimi's face was answer enough.  "My grandfather was a Don, Spain's representative to one of their more lucrative colonies on the Main.  He amassed a great personal estate in the many years he spent here as well, and when he retired, he was able to buy a large plantation on an island off the Mainland.  He married late in life.  His wife was an Englishwoman, my grandmother.  He was almost fifty years old by the time my mother was born.  

"After a great deal of bickering over where to—or even if they should—send their daughter to school, Grandmother finally got her way, and my mother was shipped off to England to be educated.  It was there she met my father, an ambitious fortune-hunter, who swept her off her feet and married her before she even wrote home to ask her parents' consent.  Needless to say, my grandfather was not pleased.  There was a break in the relationship which lasted several years.  In the meantime, my parents stayed in England and had me.

"I was only a baby when they came to the West Indies—partly because my grandmother had written that my grandfather was dying, and partly because Father's debts were starting to mount up.  They thought taking control of my grandfather's estate would be the start of a new life for them.  It was.  They set up a home on the plantation, and my earliest memories are of life there.  My grandfather died when I was too young to remember, but Grandmother—younger than he by several years—lived with us.

"One thing I can say about the Spanish that I can't give to the English.  They might torture and massacre people in the name of God, but when people convert, they show them at least the slightest signs of consideration.  Laws have been passed forbidding the enslavement of Indian people who convert to Catholicism.  Of course, that was only after they had almost decimated the population.  Still, it should come as no surprise that there were mass conversions—though truthfully, the conversion was usually nothing more than nominal."  

"I don't understand," Mimi interrupted.  "If it's illegal to enslave the native people, why were they in that miserable ship?"

Jason shrugged.  "Those would be the ones who didn't convert.  They probably started a rebellion on their island.  Once rebellions are started, Spanish retribution is swift and deadly."  The dark look descended on his face again, and Mimi wished she was sitting near enough to him to take his hand and comfort him.  He shrugged the mood off as quickly as it had come.  "Anyway, the situation in our house was tense.  After her initial infatuation, my mother had grown to loathe my father for tricking her into a marriage unworthy of her.  They fought about everything, but especially my father's drinking and carousing with the slaves.  They thought I didn't hear, but adults underestimate how much children understand of their surroundings."  Mimi nodded.  She knew that only too well.  The fear of closets and tight, confined spaces had never quite left her.

"I hated when they fought, and I was bored most of the time besides, so I would sneak out as often as I could.  No one ever worried about me much; I think I was more of a nuisance to my family than anything else.  I would wander all over our plantation, getting into mischief, causing trouble.  But usually, I would make my way to the last remaining _Ara'guacu__'—the Spanish and the English would say Arawak—settlement nearby.  I was too little to understand then, but I was told later that some of the more rebellious men considered killing me, simply for the hurt it would cause the white men.  _

"What spared me was not my own appeal, so much as a little girl my own age named Maria.  Her parents had given her the Spanish name in hopes it would spare her if she ever fell into white men's hands.  Her father was the _cacique_, the chieftain of his village.  Maria was the pride of his life.  She was the sweetest child one could ever hope to meet.  She found me wandering around the fields one day and brought me to her home by the hand, saying I needed a Mama to clean me up."  He smiled wistfully, and Mimi could see him being pulled back into a happier time, before the darkness had come into his life.

"After that, I was rarely apart from her for most of my childhood.  I followed her around, like some lost puppy dog she had taken pity on.  She was something totally foreign to my life, a free spirit.  She taught me the language and traditions of her people, and with time, they came to accept me.  The women looked out for me as they did the rest of the children.  I even went through the same coming of age rituals.  The red and black paint you saw on my skin are markings for certain _Ara'guacu__' rituals."  He chuckled.  "I learned early on aboard the _Vengeance _that I could avoid a lot of long explanations simply by keeping my skin painted.  Only an __Ara'guacu__' would know how to produce these exact symbols._

"Time went on.  Children grow up.  Yet Maria and I were still the best of friends.  And then, one day it changed."  His eyes glazed over, until Mimi was convinced he didn't even remember she was in the room.  "I was fifteen when I looked at my best friend and discovered she was beautiful.  Her eyes were the deepest, wisest of browns.  Her skin was smooth and olive, and her voice carried all the joy of the world inside it.  Even the way she moved was perfect; she seemed to float upon the wind, with her long, slender legs.  I loved her, but it took almost another year for me to say anything.

"I wondered on occasion why she was not married.  Women in her tribe often were at younger age than she was, yet she remained unclaimed, free to run and play in the fields with me.  She told me later she went to her father weeping every time he considered marrying her off.  The _cacique_ could not find it in his heart to deny his daughter anything, and so she waited—for me.  One morning, as we sat upon a hill and watched the sun come up over the horizon, she turned to me and said, her voice ringing as clear as any bell, 'Are you going to marry me, Jason?'"

He laughed again, his eyes glowing with the memory.  "I, of course, only stammered and stumbled over my response, until she thankfully spared me the trouble and kissed me.  It was like heaven had opened up before me.  I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and her people.  They had a love of life no white men I had ever seen could comprehend.  My own family seemed to me by this time nothing more than shadowy one-dimensional figures in the background of my life.

"We went to her father first, of course, and he gave us his blessing.  No doubt he thought his daughter would be safe from all the troubles of his people if she was married to me."  The green eyes sparked again, this time with sorrow and rage.  "We were married secretly by the village _bohique—holy man—that day.  I thought that would be enough.  As far as I was concerned, I would willingly have never returned to my home and taken up residence with her people.  But both Maria and her father insisted we receive my parents' blessing as well—and the binding legality a Roman Catholic marriage ceremony would bring._

"I delayed for a week, enjoying my honeymoon state with my new bride.  We had never been so happy as in that week together, those few last hours…"  His voice choked for a moment, before he cleared his throat and went on.  "Finally, I had no choice but to bring Maria to meet them.  I knew it was a horrible idea the moment she was introduced to them as my wife.  My mother had a fit of hysterics and had to be led away.  My father ranted and cursed and then began calling for his rum, his pistol, and his whip—in that order.  But my grandmother—always the discerning head of the household—was the one who stated the position of the family, when she stated, in her cold, proper, English tones, 'I shall have no savage bitch bearing my great-grandchildren.  Take her from here at once.'

"I couldn't have cared less how they reacted and was only too eager to wipe the dust of that place off my feet, but Maria…my poor Maria, who had never wronged a soul in her life, was brokenhearted over their rejection.  I tried to comfort her as we began the walk home, holding her in my arms and wiping away the tears.  I probably should have been more guarded, but I was used to my family not bothering about my life.  I thought this would be no different.  Yet we had not made it past the borders of the plantation before several of my father's hired hands came upon us.  I tried to fight them off but was little more than a youth, unarmed and unaccustomed to fighting.  They dragged her from me, screaming, and knocked me unconscious.

"When I awakened, I was in my room at the plantation house.  My grandmother was waiting by my side, to set me straight on my duty to my family.  I was expected to marry a nice English or Spanish lady, with a fortune and a pedigree.  This 'entanglement' of my youth would be forgotten in time.  I asked what they had done with Maria, and she simply said 'she is disposed of.'  Disposed of!  Like she was dead animal to be kicked to the curb.  She then explained to me I would be heading for the continent with the next ship that came to port.  I spat in her face.

"As soon as she left, I crept out the window and returned to Maria's father to tell him what had happened.  He didn't blame me for not protecting her as he should have.  He grieved for her though, as if she was dead—and we had no reason to believe she wasn't.  His people clamored for an attack on the plantation, or in the absence of that, my own life for hers.  I said they might take it; it had no value to me.  But the _cacique interceded on my behalf, calling me his son, and telling them they harmed me on pain of their own death.  I didn't deserve his kindness.  I know I didn't._

"I remained with them for days, grieving with Maria's parents.  I knew I would have to leave soon though.  It was only a matter of time before the wrath of the white men would fall on this village if I remained with them.  But where was I to go?  I would rather have slit my wrists than return to that house and obey my grandmother's wishes.  Only the knowledge that the consequences of my suicide would be laid on the people kept me from ending my own life.

"My answer came to me in the return of a village fishing party.  When they heard the news of Maria, they related the news that a slave ship had passed them leaving from port on the same day she was taken from me.  It gave me hope—a miserable hope, but better than what I feared—and I determined to find some way to her if it took the rest of my life.

"I need not bore you with the details of the next few years.  I used what little money I had to book passage on the first ship leaving for another island port.  I knew slave ships always traveled towards the Mainland itself.  The Spaniards might have some sympathy for the natives on the outlying islands, but on the Main, they had only one purpose: to mine.  We had all heard horror stories of the treatment of natives in the Peruvian mines, and I was determined to spare Maria that fate.  I was young and idealistic and still believed our love might be reclaimed.  

"Over time, I worked as a sailor on various ships, learning fencing and fighting and anything I thought might be useful when the time came.  I made my way to islands where I heard pirates had strong footholds:  Tortuga and Jamaica.  That's when I first met Br—Blackheart.  We were both inexperienced, but eager.  He was out to avenge some secret injury; I wanted to put myself in a place where I could find Maria.  

"Following clues—hard to come by, but invaluable—I had at least a possibility that she had indeed been brought to a Peruvian mine.  I even knew who the owner was.  But no pirate captain would be foolish enough to stage an attack on the Main itself.  But Blackheart and I had two advantages others did not have.  He could speak Castilian better than the King of Spain himself, and I had friends among the native people.  Rather than stage an actual assault on the city, we—with a few well-chosen comrades—made out way secretly there.

"While Blackheart and the others went after the _hacienda, I went on to the mines.  Killing the guards, I found many prisoners there needing no encouragement to join the battle.  But I could not find my Maria, though I asked everywhere.  After seeing that the mines had been entirely cleared, I had no choice but to believe my information had been mistaken, and she had been brought to a different mine.  It had been three years since she had been taken from me, and I foresaw another several years of fruitless search before me._

"I returned to the _hacienda to find havoc before me.  It would be only minutes before the __guarda__ would be alerted and upon us, and men and women alike were gathering all they could before disappearing into the jungle.  I was looking for Blackheart when I stumbled across the overseer's cottage and heard the screams coming from within.  That scream struck a chill into my heart such as I had not had since the day Maria was torn from me.  I rushed in to find the Spanish overseer standing in front of a weeping, bloody figure on the floor, a gleaming machete in his hands.  _

"It took little enough to send him to his maker, and then I was free to look upon the woman huddling on the ground.  She turned her face to me, and I saw with glee it was my Maria.  I had her in my arms and was kissing her in moments.  But she pulled away from me, still weeping.  '_Tanama_,' she cried, and I saw the reason she had huddled so closely.  Concealed under her was the frightened figure of a little child, not much more than two years old.  She raised her eyes to mine, and I saw reflected in them my own green eyes.

"I looked to Maria for answers, falling onto the wound in her back from which the blood came.  She had been shielding the child when he came upon her.  As I tried to stop the bleeding, tearing my own shirt to serve as a bandage, she told me her story.  She had been sold to the mine owner.  Once it was known she was pregnant, however, she was moved to work in the kitchens.  It was there that the overseer first saw her.  He wanted her for her beauty and would not be content with her denials.  After our child was weaned—she named her _Tanama in hopes that she, like the butterfly, could live free and unchained—the overseer took her into his house, refusing to let Maria see her unless she shared his bed.  She had refused, staying true to our love.  She was only able to sneak rare occasions to look upon our little girl.  But when the news of our attack reached her, she rushed to take _Tanama___ and flee.  When the overseer caught her, he was ready to kill them both.  My Maria sheltered the child with her own body.  She died for love of her."_

Jason's explanations came to an end, and Mimi looked at him with eyes welling over with tears of sympathy.  "You couldn't save her then?"

He shook his head, too moved for words.  "By the time Blackheart arrived to tell me we had to leave, death had already claimed her."

"And the little girl…?" Mimi prompted.  "_Tanama?"_

"I took her with me, but by then, my heart was so full with a thirst for revenge that I could not content myself to be a father to her.  Blackheart had taken enough money away from the raid to buy his own ship, and he wanted me aboard as first mate.  So I returned to the island of my childhood and brought _Tanama__ to stay with Maria's parents.  It was my way to amend for the child they had lost, I suppose.  I visited her once, but the second time I came…"  The emotions which had been welling in him the entire story found release in a single tear he allowed to fall as he remembered the child with her mother's olive skin and his green eyes.  "In retribution for a burned sugarcane field, my father had destroyed the last traces of the village.  My daughter was among the dead."_

Mimi's hand flew to her mouth as she comprehended the full extent of the horrors he had lived through.  They made her own seem paltry indeed.  "Oh, Jason…"  Without another thought, she flew across the room and into his arms.  He buried his face in her neck and listened to her whisper comforting words to him as he finally allowed himself to grieve for all he had lost.  She buried her hands in the sandy hair and rained down kisses upon his brow, wishing she could take his pain away.  She felt wretched now for making him relive such painful memories…and yet she felt an even deeper connection to him than before.  They were joined by shared tragedy.

Gradually, his embrace around her tightened, his hands moving from her waist up along the lines of her back as he pulled his head back to look upon her.  He saw the empathy in her eyes—eyes he had expected to be filled with proper English abhorrence for his misalliance with a native savage.  But she held no such prejudices.  She saw only the true love he had been robbed of, and she pitied him.  

Mimi's hands caressed the sides of his face, seeing now why he had to remain so impenetrable in show.  It was all he could do to keep the pain away.  She wasn't afraid of him anymore.  She wasn't afraid of the things she had been—that he was only out to use her, that he would desert her, that he would hurt her.  Here was a man who knew how to love, and who she could love without fear.  

Neither was quite sure who initiated the kiss that followed.  Neither could understand exactly how it happened.  One moment, their arms were wrapped around each other in grief, and the next in passion.  The kisses she had placed upon his forehead as tokens of sympathy meant nothing compared to the sudden bliss of her surrendering her lips to his.  With both desire and despair, love and confusion, they found their way to each other.  He fed of her youth and innocence like nourishment to a starving man.  And she gave herself to him, pouring out all the tenderness her heart could hold upon a man who had not only captured her fancy—he had touched her soul.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Thirteen**

Shawn never failed to be awed by the abruptness of sunrise at sea.  One moment, all was dark, and he could navigate his ship by starlight; the next, a flash of orange lit up the sky.  Black became grey, and grey became blue.  If he closed his eyes for a mere moment, he missed it.  This morning, though, his thoughts were more prosaic.  He wondered where Belle was, and if she was witnessing the same sunrise.  Did her thoughts dwell on him with as much regularity as his did on her?

For a week, he had been sailing out upon the Caribbean, upon the trail of the _Vengeance.  Each day, his patience wore a little thinner.  Each day, he looked out over the waves, hoping against hope for the first sight of his former friend's ship.  He had yet to understand Brady's motives for their capture.  Part of him wanted to believe the pirate truly had believed the __Dolphin was in danger of attack, but the more sensible side of his nature showed the holes in that theory.  Blackheart was no fool.  What would prompt him to make such a move?_

He could not help blaming himself to some degree for this turn of events.  After all, it had been he who first mentioned the _Dolphin_ to Brady, who first told him of the impending arrival of the British ambassador—an ambassador who just happened to be his future father-in-law.  He could only assume the capture related entirely to that piece of information, which was supposed to have remained confidential from all except a few high-ranking officials in colonial government.  Yet Shawn had trumpeted the news to a pirate for the sake of a friendship which turned out could not have been very meaningful.  If Brady had trusted and respected him, he would have taken Shawn into his confidence.  Instead, the last Commander Brady had seen of him, Blackheart had been running out of the tavern with a head full of state secrets.  Damn his folly!

He could not say he worried about Belle's safety.  Despite his belief that he had mistaken the virtue of the man, Shawn still held fast to Brady's honor.  Blackheart would willingly run through man, woman, and child if they had Spanish blood flowing through their veins, but he had a great respect for all things English.  No, Belle was alive and unharmed.  He was certain of that.

Shawn's fear was on a more personal level.  He dreaded the thought of what could happen to Belle's fragile heart in a world of such brutality.  What horrible sights must she see in such a place?  He worried too that perhaps she would not come back to him the same sweet girl she had been; more than that, he worried she might not come back to him at all.

He was muttering a quiet prayer for her safe return, when he heard footsteps approaching.  Pulling himself militarily erect, he turned for the salute of his second-in-command, Rex Evans.  "Commander."

"What do you want, Lieutenant?" he asked sharply.

The tall sandy-haired sailor looked hurt at his captain's curt tone.  He had always considered himself to be one of the few men the commander took into his confidence, and that responsibility meant a lot to him.  He respected Shawn Brady and trie to emulate his honor and integrity in all things.  "I wished to inquire into your well-being, Commander," he returned in an injured tone.  "But as I see you're in no mood for interruption—"

"No, no," Shawn sighed, waving his hand.  "I apologize, Rex.  You disturbed a miserable fellow, I'm afraid."

"We'll find her, Commander."  Rex looked at his superior with a combination of sympathy and determination.  "You have the greatest ship and crew in the entire Caribbean at your command."

Shawn turned back to the rail, a wry smile crossing over his face.  "Thank you, Rex.  But we both know that's not true.  I have the second-best ship in the Caribbean.  Blackheart has the best with him."  He returned his vigilant gaze across the water, willing the _Vengeance _to appear on the horizon.  

~~*~~

Belle paused in her labors for only a moment as a glint of orange invaded the darkness of the hull.  She stood frozen, watching light fill the room which only a moment ago had been completely black, except for the small area illuminated by her lamp.  She closed her eyes and allowed the warmth of the sun to penetrate through the window and onto her chilled skin.  She needed the momentary relief.

In a few seconds, the sunrise was past, and the spell was broken.  Thankfully, at least, the hull was lighter now.  She turned back to survey the array of people watching her with a combination of awe and affection.  She smiled back and picked up a little girl who tugged on the hem of her skirt, dipping her down and back up again, causing the room to be filled with childish giggles.

Belle had been unceasing in her labors with these people in the week since they had come aboard.  Every morning, she descended to the hull before sunrise to begin preparing breakfast, and she didn't leave again until long after sundown when Mimi, Chloe, and Jason had to beg, plead, and occasionally drag her away to get some rest.  She couldn't help it.  For the first time in her life, she actually felt _useful_.  Years and years of education on how to be a proper English lady had taught her nothing more than how to be a helpless, lazy, fragile doll.  Now, she was finally getting a chance to realize life stretched beyond the sedate walls of drawing rooms and sitting parlors.

These people needed her, and in a strange way, she needed them as well.  Her entire young life had been spent in a constant effort to earn approval and never feeling she quite measured up.  Her father loved her, she knew, but not enough for her to take away the pain when he thought about the life he had lost.  Her mother's own life had been plagued with bitterness.  Her first marriage to a man she loved had ended with her as an impoverished widow; her second had been a marriage of convenience and contained little love in it.  Belle could not help feeling at times that her mother wished she was never born.  At least, she knew she would never mean to either of her parents what their other children did.  The phantom of Brady haunted her father, and Lady Marlena dispensed all the love she had left in her heart upon Belle's half-siblings, Samantha and Eric.

Was it any wonder the young Lady Black turned to outside sources for validation?  Hers was an open, loving nature, but one that thrived on the good opinions of others.  She had found that, for a while, in a maid who looked up to her as the pinnacle of perfection and a best friend who adored the sweet nature in such opposition to her own.  But both of them had seemed to be slipping away from her since they took to sea.  While they had attended her during her illness and labored beside her daily now, she felt the distance growing between them.  Perhaps it was all part of growing up, but the three friends were seeing their lives pulling them in different directions.  Although, at times, Belle wondered if maybe Chloe and Mimi were traveling along the same path—a path she not only could not follow, she couldn't even see it.

Then there was Shawn.  A sad smile tugged at her lips as she thought of her fiancé.  Commander Shawn Douglas Brady had made her feel, for the first time in her life, that she could be happy—that she was worthy of being loved for who she was.  But it had been four months since she had seen him, four long months since he had held her in his arms and declared his undying love for her.  Now, she could only wonder where he was, what he was doing, and if his love did, in fact, still hold true.

But now, there was something beyond Shawn, something more important than even he was.  She was not only loved by the people around her; she was treasured, idolized, and needed.  It was the dearest feeling she had ever had.  For once, Belle felt important.  She felt there was some purpose to her life, other than wallowing in her own self-pity.  So she waited upon them, feeding the starving, bandaging cuts, sitting by sick beds, rocking children to sleep.  True to his word, Jason had begun teaching her the language, and she was now able to converse—in a broken, disjointed way—with the people surrounding her.  

While Jason stood by as a nominal guard, everyone knew no harm would come to Belle.  Even the man who had spit on her feet now bowed as she walked past him.  She had been simultaneously adopted as one of their own and claimed as their savior.  No longer did disgruntled murmurings run through the crowd when the pirates came in sight.  Indeed, a kind of bantering through sign language and deck games had been established between the men.  The children flocked around Belle, crowding her skirts for their turn in her arms, while the young women had taken to trying to style their hair in the intricate ways she did.

Mimi, Chloe, and Jan did their parts, but their duty was perfunctory; a way to please Belle and fill the long, hot hours of the day.  It was true Mimi found some satisfaction in giving bread to the starving, and Chloe had bonded with the children, even going so far as to sing them to sleep at nights—charming more than the children with the sweetness of her voice.  Yet on the whole, it was Belle who spearheaded their efforts, and it was Belle to whom the people meant the world.  

~~*~~

Mimi watched with silent approval as Belle knelt beside an old man's bedside.  She had known this would be good for Belle.  Even her constant worry about Belle's health was gradually giving way as she saw how much good this activity was doing for her.  Already, she looked stronger, healthier, more alive than Mimi could ever remember seeing her.  Actually, she thought, her gaze traveling to Chloe, Belle wasn't alone in that department.  Lady Wesley—always glowing with life—had seemed to come on fire over the past few weeks they'd been at sea.

If there had been a mirror for her to glance in, Miriam Lockhart might have seen that "life" wasn't confining itself to the two ladies.  For her entire life, Mimi had carried herself with a kind of innate dignity which rivaled her mistress's.  It had given her a regality which put her above her status as a mere lady's maid, but it had also given her a chill air of unreality about her.  Now, no one could accuse her of being made of stone.  Her green eyes sparkled with a secret passion; her cheeks glowed as if in a perpetual state of laughter; even the way she styled her hair now was looser, freer.  

Since the night Jason and she had kissed, her inner life had been one of continual agitation.  She could not help replaying every moment of it inside her head.  The comforting caresses, leading into the breath-stealing kiss.  She could only imagine what would have happened after that if Chloe hadn't walked in when she did.  That had been enough for Mimi to recover herself and jump out of Jason's lap, though the only emotion apparent on Lady Wesley's face was amusement.  Jason had made a hasty exit, and she had not been alone with him since then.

Perhaps that was a good thing.  Seeing him always in front of Belle and Chloe had given her a chance to get control of her nerves.  She could speak to him now without a stutter or a telltale blush.  In fact, any embarrassment she might have felt if she had been forced again into a secluded interview with him immediately following the event was now gone.  She felt only a growing desire to speak with him again.

In the meantime, she was enjoying working with Belle, Chloe, and Jason.  Though the labor occupied the majority of their days, there were still moments for talking and giggling with her friends.  Jason himself had proved to be a man with a wonderful sense of humor, managing to send both the English girls and the native men into fits of laughter several times a day.  She also noticed that while he displayed no overt signs of affection for her in front of the others, he was never far from her.  He seemed to make a special effort to draw her into conversation, and she often found his hand at her elbow as he escorted the ladies to and from their cabins every morning and evening.  Who could blame her then if she was growing to depend on him, to want him near her at all times?

"You seem pensive today, Mimi," observed Chloe as she sliced bread for breakfast and Mimi did the same with papaya.  "Jason Masters wouldn't happen to have anything to do with it, now would he?"  The lady could not hide her arch look at the blush that predictably rose into the maid's cheeks.  

Mimi let the knife fall onto the makeshift counter, as she took a frenzied look around to make sure Jason was not within hearing distance.  She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him conversing with Belle and one of the native men.  "Shh," she hissed.  "Keep your voice down."

Chloe raised an eyebrow, trying to look stern but barely managing to repress her laughter.  "My, my, we have gone a long way from 'yes, m'lady, no, m'lady,' haven't we?"

The maid bit her lip, looking properly chastened.  "I beg pardon, my lady.  I spoke—"

"Oh, Mimi, stop it," Chloe interrupted.  "I was only trying to tease you.  If anyone should apologize, I suppose it's me.  I was being impertinent, but I really was simply trying to torment you a bit.  You are always so possessed about the way you feel, and I'm not sure how to deal with that."

Mimi returned her attention to the food, trying to hide her red face from the lady's sight.  "My lady, if you truly wish me to speak candidly to you…" she hesitated, indecision written over her expression.

"Go on, Mimi," Chloe returned quietly, her jovial mood falling off as quickly as it had come upon her.  "You know I have nothing but the highest respect for your opinions—even when they fall in condemnation of me."

The red-haired beauty dared raise her eyes to the lady after such words of encouragement.  "Then, perhaps you will take these words in the spirit in which they are offered.  This is no Sunday afternoon cruise we are on.  We have been abducted, are in the heart of a pirate ship, and any day—"

Chloe tossed her head disdainfully.  "You think I don't know that, Mimi?  I understand exactly our precarious position.  If I hadn't before, the battle and these people before us would be proof enough of it.  The problem is I do not feel myself a captive, and I don't believe you do either in your heart of hearts.  You are falling for Mr. Masters as completely as I am for the captain.  Don't deny it, Mimi."

A wistful smile crossed Mimi's features as she looked across the room to study Jason's profile.  His strong laughter carried over to her.  "I do not deny it.  I couldn't even if I wanted to after what you saw.  But you misunderstood what I was about to say.  I was not warning you about the danger of the pirates; I wanted to remind you that we will not be here forever.  Shawn will come after us with the whole of His Majesty's Royal Navy, and then what?  What will be sheer joy for Belle and her father will be the end for us."  Her eyes once again sought out Jason's rugged profile, and the smile on her face faded altogether.  She couldn't bear to think of losing him.

"You're right," Chloe whispered, the horror of that inevitable event dawning on her.  She could see already the outcome of Shawn's pursuit.  The _Vengeance would not even fight the attack.  Brady had already hinted as much.  And then Brady and Jason and all the rest of them would be taken and hanged, and she would be alone…No, not alone.  She would be Mrs. Philip Kiriakis, spending out the rest of her days in the hopeless boredom of a plantation owner's wife and drowning in memories of the few short weeks when she had actually __lived her life.  Tears unexpectedly pricked her eyes, and the knife she was holding clattered as it slipped from her fingers.  "Excuse me, Mimi, I…I—"_

Mimi's heart was moved with pity and self-recrimination at the stricken look on Chloe's face.  "Oh, my lady, I'm sorry.  I should not have spoken.  I did not mean to upset you."

Chloe shook her head.  "It's not your fault.  But…I need some air."  With a frantic twirl of her skirts, the lady abandoned the hull which was closing in around her in favor of the open sea and sky from which she found her strength.

Mimi watched her go, sighing at her own foolishness.  Just because such thoughts tormented her didn't give her the right to bring Chloe down with her.  Holding back her own tears, she picked up the knife Chloe had dropped and finished slicing the bread.  It was easy for her to drown out her thoughts and rioting emotions in menial chores.  She had been doing it all her life.

Her task was halted by the feeling of two strong, roughened hands on her elbows.  "Mimi, are you all right?  What happened with Chloe?"  Jason's voice was a barely discernible whisper in her ear.

She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his touch on her skin, of the warmth of his body behind her.  Moments like this she must remember long after he was gone.  "Nothing," she returned, the effort of speech almost choking her.  

Gentle pressure from his hands turned her around until she was confronted with the probing gaze of his emerald eyes—so like hers.  "Come on, Mimi," he said finally, taking her by the hand.  "We need to talk."  He tried to lead her out of the room.

Mimi pulled her hand out of his grasp, shaking her head.  "I need to serve breakfast."

"Lady Black and Jan will take care of it," he returned, in a voice that boded no argument.  "There are things we need to discuss.  I've been putting this off too long."  Without another word, he succeeded in pulling her away from her duty and out into the private corridor.  

Jason's eyes raked over her, taking in the lavender dress under the thick brown apron.  Her hair was pulled up in its traditional French twist, but already wisps had fallen down to frame her face.  Before long, he knew the sunlight streaming in, coupled with her work, would bring the sweat to her brow and the hair would stick to her face.  He had seen it happen every day for the last week, and she still was beautiful.  Unable to resist the impulse, he reached out and brushed the unruly tendrils back behind her ear.  

Despite herself, Mimi leaned into his touch, as his fingers paused to caress her cheek.  Taking the gentle encouragement, Jason forgot all the words he was going to speak and leaned closer to her.  His eyes flickered to hers once, asking permission, before settling on her lips.  One arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him, while the other hand abandoned her cheek to cup the back of her neck, moving her face closer to his.  

Mimi released the smallest of sighs before his lips touched down upon hers for the second time.  No grief intermingled with the affection to mar this kiss.  It was warm and passionate, as Jason seemed determined to memorize every facet of her lips.  She had no protest to make as he backed her up against the wall behind her.  Her hands snaked into his hair, pulling him closer, allowing more intimacy.  Of its own accord, her mouth parted to allow him greater access.  She released a moan of pure ecstasy the moment his tongue brushed against hers.  This was heaven.

An eternity later, Jason pulled away, that familiar, lovable, hated smirk firmly in place.  "I've been wanting to tell you that all week long."

A small smile made its way to Mimi's lips as she made no attempt to free herself from his embrace.  She felt comfortable in his arms, safe and right.  All her worries about what might happen—no, what would happen—in the near future fled as she stared into Jason's green eyes.  "What stopped you?" she found herself asking, almost flirtatiously.  Was this self-controlled, strong, independent Mimi Lockhart speaking?  No, that girl she had been had disappeared with Jason's first touch.  She was his now, whatever might come.

"People," he said, with quiet sincerity, as his eyes flickered to the door behind them.

"No one's here now," Mimi pointed out, glancing around them.  She was still smiling as his lips touched hers.  With growing familiarity, they explored the kiss, the magical blending of their lips.  Mimi felt near to fainting by the time Jason pulled away again.

Groaning, Jason allowed his arms to drop their hold of her, as his hand made the familiar pathway through his hair.  Her lips, still swollen from his kisses, eagerly awaited their next assault, and her eyes questioned his desertion.  He was so tempted to succumb to that desire in her expression, but he couldn't.  Not yet.  "Look, Mimi, I don't want you to think I brought you out here, just so I could kiss you."

Mimi frowned.  "Why did you bring me here then, Jason?"

"Well, to kiss you, of course," he teased, with a wink, bringing her smile shining back.  His own expression grew serious though.  "But I had planned on talking to you first.  I wanted you to know…well, first, I suppose I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" Mimi echoed stupidly.  "What have I done?"

"You listened to me.  I know I didn't want to talk about…what happened, but you were right.  It was good for me.  I don't think I had really allowed myself to grieve since Maria and Tanama died."  Mimi looked ready to interrupt, but Jason waved her into silence.  "But I want you to know that the kiss we shared…it wasn't because of that, because you were comforting me."  He stopped, frowning as he tried to put into words what he felt.  Words had never been the pirate's strong suit. He had never needed them before.  "Well, partly it was…but I have feelings for you, Mimi.  I have since the moment I saw you, and they keep getting stronger all the time.  After Maria died, I thought I would never love again.  I thought I had my chance, and I lost it.  Now, I feel like I have—for whatever reason—this second chance, and I would be a fool to throw it away."

Mimi's raised eyebrow was her only visible response.  "Are you done now?" she asked curtly.  

Jason nodded, feeling suddenly sheepish for having been so straightforward towards her.  Maybe she didn't feel the same way…Maybe she still didn't trust him or any man…Maybe…

"Good."  Without another word, her arms had wrapped around his neck and pulled his head down towards hers for another all-consuming kiss.  For the time being, she didn't care about consequences.  Oh, they would catch up to her, she was sure.  But for the moment, all that mattered was the love she found in Jason's arms.

~~*~~

_The boat rocked violently with the force of the storm, but the three souls in the cabin felt safe and warm.  Snuggled together under the blankets of the large bed, they listened to the rain pound down and the thunder roar with no thought for their safety.  Surely, nothing could happen to them here.  Theirs was a gorgeous, new-built clipper ship.  No storm would be able to sink it._

_The littlest of the trio certainly had no worries of the kind.  His pudgy arms were wrapped securely around his mother's neck, as he slumbered peacefully on.  The dusky rose of his chubby cheeks contrasted with the gentle fluttering of his black eyelashes on them, his cherubic mouth half-open as his deep breathing made itself felt against his mother's heart. _

_She smiled softly, as she stroked the baby-fine blonde hair.  Peace was in her heart as well.  Her arms were full of this little bit of baby-love, and to her back, she felt the familiar hardness of her husband's body.  His arm held her close to him, as he buried his face in her dark, curly hair.  This was safety.  This was contentment.  Nothing could ever shatter the feeling of security she had in her husband's arms, with their baby in her own._

_He felt it too.  All was right with the world as long as he held his loved ones close to his heart.  Storms could rail, lightning could strike, but nothing could break this forever bond.  "Isabella," he murmured, against her neck._

_"Hmm," she sighed contentedly.  _

_"What are you thinking about?"  He pushed himself up on one elbow to look down into the face of his beloved; her forehead was creased with some secret contemplation.  _

_"I was wondering if it was right for one person to be so happy.  Surely, there are checks and balances in this world, and yet here I am."  That beatific smile he had fallen in love with spread across her face as she dipped her head to inhale her son's baby scent and kiss his head.  "I have my son."  She turned her head to lay a soft kiss on her husband's lips.  "I have you.  I doubt anyone has been this content since the world began.  So where is the suffering to counteract all this?"_

_His arms tightened around her.  "Do you know what I think, my love?  I think there will be no reckoning for us.  Your goodness brings goodness to us."_

_Isabella's smile turned a bit sad as she shook her head.  "No, John.  If earth was perfect here and now, where would be the longing for heaven?"_

_"I have heaven here, in my arms," he maintained, placing a kiss on her brow.  _

_"Then, I shan't stay in them for long," she contradicted, as a dreadful knowing entered her eyes.  "Mortals are not meant for too much happiness.  But John…whatever happens…"  Her hand reached out to clutch his arm, as her frightened look pierced his heart.  "Whatever happens, I'll love you always.  I swear it.  I swear it on the proof of our love, on our little Brady in my arms."_

_Longing to pacify his wife and have back that fleeting moment of contentment, John kissed her lips softly and then laid his hand on his son's head.  His hand was so big, it nearly covered the whole.  "Our son is the living proof of all the love I bear you.  No one and nothing could take away from that love.  Not as long as I live."  His blue eyes blazed into hers, before covering her mouth in a more passionate kiss.  _

_The lovers' moment was interrupted by a frantic pounding on the door.  "Lord and Lady Black!  You must get out, above deck.  The ship is going down…"_

Brady once again had the feeling that though his father's eyes were on him, his thoughts were miles away.  What could account for that glazed look upon his face?  A moment ago, he could have sworn he saw a semblance of a smile cross the viscount's face; now, there was only pain.  His eyes flashed again and again with some remembered horror.  "Your Lordship?" he prompted, trying to draw him out of a vision so obviously painful.

John started, as the image of twenty-foot waves and black skies dissolved into the reality of a wooden room with iron bars, and a black-masked man keeping guard.  He thought he saw a flash of concern in the pirate's eyes before his face was wiped carefully expressionless.  The boy was a good actor, but eyes didn't lie.  Blue eyes, deep as the sea, crystal as the sky.  Eyes like his own.  "Yes, Captain?"  He managed to make his voice steady and emotionless.  Blackheart wasn't the only one who knew how to pretend.

"I believe you were having a waking nightmare of sorts, my lord.  I thought I would draw you out of it."

The older man nodded once, in silent thanks.  Those memories were pulling him down with greater and greater frequency now.  He didn't even have to be asleep anymore for his wife's image to appear before him.  It was almost as if he was being prepared for something…something at which he could only hazard a guess.  He studied the pirate in silence for a moment more, before venturing, "So what happened after?"

Brady's expression turned to one of confusion.  "After what?"

"After your mother died," John pressed.  "What brought you from the grieving little boy to the vengeful pirate?"

Brady immediately tensed, shrugging his shoulders in an unsuccessful attempt to appear nonchalant.  "What happens to all little boys?  I grew up."

"Yes, but where?  How?"  There was an urgency now to John's questions, as though he feared it would be his only chance to ask them.

Correctly reading how important his answers were to his father, Brady pushed aside his personal discomfort in order to relieve Lord Black's mind.  "I stayed at the monastery.  I eagerly learned everything they taught me.  I kissed their cursed crucifix, and in return, they gave me everything I needed to destroy them.  They taught me Spanish.  They taught me fencing.  At fourteen, my head full of tales of those blasted English pirates, I ran off to become a cabin boy on the first galley heading to the Caribbean.  

"I jumped ship within sight of land.  I didn't even know what island it was then or who had claimed it.  I just wanted to be free.  Luckily enough, I had stumbled across Jamaica.  Making my way to Port Royal, I joined a pirate ship about to sail.  They laughed at my enthusiasm, but their laughter died the moment I told them about the galley I had traveled over on…its exact location, where it was going to pick up its load of silver, and the weaknesses that would make it fall into their hands."  He laughed harshly.  "The rest, I suppose, is history.  I hoarded my takings until I was able to buy my own boat, and I've been making my own raids ever since."  

Sorrow swam over John's face as he stared at the bitter man before him.  If it was indeed his Brady, then he was only twenty-four.  Far too young to be so hardened.  "How old were you…"  He paused, the words nearly strangling him.  "How old were you when you first killed a man?"

The corners of Brady's mouth tipped up in a cold resemblance of a smile.  Who would have guessed his father was such a bleeding heart?  That was spoken like any sheltered English lord was apt to speak, he supposed.  "I could not have been older than fifteen, my lord.  But you must understand, to me, murder, death, is only one more aspect of life.  The harshest, 'tis true, but death comes to all men.  I have killed more than my share, and my life will be forfeit in consequence.  Justice will be served.  I am under no delusions about that."

"Then why do you do it?  Why do you murder and pillage and kidnap?" John demanded, delving nearer the heart of the matter.  "I sense you are a good man, with a good heart.  What makes you do such horrible things if you know you will be made to pay for them?"

Brady's jaw clenched as his father echoed all the questions of his own conscience.  He combated the accusations in the same way.  "If I don't, then who will make them pay?  My mother's life was worth something too, and I'll be damned before I let her murderers go unpunished."

"So you've made yourself judge and jury and found a whole race of people guilty for the sins of a few?" his father challenged.  

Unconsciously, Brady's hand tightened around his sword hilt.  "If you knew what they did to her, if you had seen what I did, if you knew what I knew, you wouldn't ask me why I am what I am.  You would join me in slitting the throat of every Spaniard you came across."

John had to admit the boy had a point.  The thought of his Isabella—if it was indeed his Isabella—in the hands of the Inquisitors was enough to turn his stomach, to scream to heaven for revenge.  "No doubt you're right, Captain, but I have one last question to ask you.  What would _she want you to do?"  He knew his IzzyB.  If this was his son, Isabella would have taught him the faith she took such comfort from, the belief in mercy and grace towards all men._

Brady rose from his seat, turning his face away from his father's knowing gaze, as he leaned onto one of the hanging buttresses towards the wall.  He didn't want to hear these things.  He had spent so long focusing on the way his mother died he had forgotten how she _lived.  On the most miserable of his nights, when he would sneak down to be by her side and find her sweet face beaten beyond recognition, the rags covering her body not enough to hide the bony ribs and spine which poked through from the excess of starvation.  And still, even then, she would speak to him of forgiveness, of God's love, of her love, of his father's love.  Love, she spoke of.  Love, she believe in.  Love, she lived.  Not hate, not death, not judgment.  _

_"Have faith."_

"Why do you torture me now?" he groaned miserably under his breath.  His entire face contorted with the pain of allowing in those memories.  He didn't want to remember.

"Your mother was an incredible woman."

If John held any last doubt about the captain being his son, it disappeared with the sudden panic and wonder in Brady's eyes as he whirled around.  He tried to hide the reaction after the fact, but the damage was already done.  "You…you…how do you know my mother?"  He tried to sound casual, but he knew he failed miserably.  

John's reply was halted by the pounding on the door that signaled Kevin's arrival.  In retrospect, Brady considered it a fortunate occurrence.  Some things were better left unspoken.  As he made his way topside, he mulled over these new discoveries.  It was quite possible John now knew who he was…Of course, it was equally probable that me was speaking generally from what he knew of good Christian mothers.  

Either way, Brady knew a repeat of that conversation was most likely inevitable…and he knew now why he had been so reluctant to reveal his identity to his family.  He knew he was going to die.  All along, as they planned the abduction from the _Dolphin_, he and Jason had left one thing unsaid.  The inevitable conclusion of their actions was their own deaths.  Whether Shawn or some other English naval officer caught up with them, they would be hanged for their offences.  And yet, they had to allow themselves to be caught for the sake of Lord Black and the women within their care.  They would not truly be safe until they were in government custody.

And so, Brady must die.  It hadn't particularly bothered him before.  One thing a man in his profession learned to accept was the unavoidability of death.  It was what made them so fearless in battle.  Kill or be killed was a way of life.  But there was no fear of death.  How could there be when there was nothing to live for?  He had been quite happy without any ties to this life.  He had been prepared to meet his Maker and face his certain future in Hell.

Then, he had found reasons to live.  He had found his father.  He had found his sister.  He had found _her.  Suddenly, death didn't seem like such a pleasant alternative.  For the first time since his mother's death, he wanted to live…just as he was about to die._

He needed the fresh sea air on his face to carry away his worries.  The calming effects of the Trade Winds had never yet failed him.  He knew they wouldn't now.  Lifting the hatch, he climbed above deck and surveyed the sea stretching on as far as the eye could see.  This was peace.  This was the serenity for which he yearned.  Only his satisfaction was short-lived as he noticed once again Chloe was standing against the rail, staring out to sea.

She didn't seem to notice his appearance this time, however.  Her face wasn't raised to the sky as it always had been before.  The bright blue sky of the afternoon was apparently not as attractive to her as its nightly counterpart.  Her head was lowered, as she contemplated the endless depth of the sea.  The wind played with her long, dark hair, scattering tendrils to the waves, but she took no notice.

Brady frowned.  Something about the slump of her shoulders told him all was not well with her.  His personal problems no longer concerned him as he was filled with worry for her.  "Chloe?" he questioned softly, as he closed the gap between them with sure, long strides.  "Are you all right?"

The enchanting face lifted towards his was lined with tear-tracks.  Remnants still swam in her eyes, rivaling the ocean with their depth.  She shook her head in answer to his question.  All denial would be pointless with such clear evidence before him.  Not waiting to hear the reason for her sorrow, acting purely on instinct, Brady folded her within his arms.  She leaned her head against his solid chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and deriving comfort from it.  He whispered soothing words in her ear and stroked the silky strands of her hair.  

Chloe could have stayed like that forever, safe and happy in the close confine of his arms.  But the moment was shattered as Brady pulled away to look into her eyes.  His thumbs gently rubbed away the last vestiges of her tears.  "What's wrong, Chloe?  Tell me."

She shook off his touch, the reason for her distress coming back to her as she looked into the crystal eyes full of such concern.  She tried to sound aloof and cold, though she knew the trembling of her voice gave her away, as she asked, "What are you going to do when Commander Brady catches up to us?"

Brady pulled back as though she had struck him.  How could she know exactly the direction his thoughts had taken today?  Had hers followed a similar path?  Be that as it may, he could not force himself to lie to her.  "Nothing.  I'm not going to anything, m'lady."

Chloe winced, as the reality of Mimi's words was brought home.  "They'll hang you," she whispered desperately, pleading with him to offer her some assurance to the contrary.

"Yes," he responded.  There was no quaver to his voice.  His eyes didn't falter.  They only flashed a slight pity for her.  For himself, he cared not at all.  Only for her.  

"Then…then…that's why you pushed me away," she struggled to speak over the tears that were rising again into her sapphire eyes.  "You want to spare me that pain."

He didn't deny it.  He merely watched her, arms crossed, as the full weight of the situation sank in on her.  For a moment, the lady looked ready to break, and he wondered if she would faint again.  But he underestimated the determination and strength of Lady Chloe Wesley.  Within the space of one deep breath, she had pushed back every last hint of her tears and raised her chin, as if to spite death itself.  Her eyes met his directly, as stoic and controlled as his own.  If this was his fate, then it was hers as well.  She had made her choice long before.

"I will be spared nothing, Captain," she voiced the resolve he already knew she had.  

"Chloe…" he tried to object.

"No, Brady."  She placed her gentle hands on his crossed arms and looked up unflinchingly at him.  "If only for a week, a day, a moment...for whatever time we have, I want it.  I want to live every moment I can with you.  Whatever comes of it, whatever cruel destiny awaits us, I will not turn my back on this, on you.  To live without you would be to not live at all.  You said the emptiness afterwards would be too great if we allowed ourselves to love.  I say it would be even greater to never love at all."

Something broke inside him as he stared down into her determined face.  This was one person he could not fight, one emotion he could not run from.  His hands abandoned their defensive position to cup the back of her neck, locking her eyes with his.  With one more small nod of assent, she sealed her fate.  Brady's lips crashed violently down on hers, and they held onto each other as onto life itself.

~~*~~

"Commander?"  Rex reluctantly disturbed his captain's solitude once more.  

Shawn looked up from the maps he had been pouring over on his desk, trying to find exactly where Brady would go to hide.  "Yes?"

"We…uh, found something."  His grimace was enough to let Shawn know the discovery wasn't a pleasant one.

"Enough with the stalling, Lieutenant," Shawn growled.  "What is it?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to come see for yourself, sir," the subordinate officer said, stepping back from the doorway to the captain's cabin.  

His curiosity growing as well as his dread, Shawn followed his first mate out onto the deck.  From the crowd gathered at the railing, he knew the sight wasn't an ordinary occurrence.  No stray pod of dolphins, this.  The sailors pulled back to allow their commander through.  Shawn nearly retched at the view before him.  A small dinghy floated by his own tall ship.  It had been secured by line and was being brought up.  In the tiny boat were piled the rotting corpses of many men, some burned beyond recognition, some disemboweled, some headless, all gruesome beyond compare.  Over the heap was carelessly thrown a strip of canvas—possibly belonging formerly to a ship's topsail.  On it was distinctly written a single word:  

_Vengeance_.

Pulling away from the spectacle, Shawn issued his orders.  "Bring up the canvas, then sink the boat.  Let those wretches have some peace.  Lieutenant, come with me."  He returned hastily to his cabin, Rex falling dazedly behind.  Shutting the hatch behind them, Shawn's serious express turned into one of almost…glee.  

Rex watched in astonishment as Shawn bent over his map, smiling.  "Sir?" 

Shawn raised his head.  "Have you ever heard of a pirate crew leaving the dead to float like that, especially with a marker that identified the ship?"

Frowning, Rex searched his memory.  "No, sir.  But then, they say the _Vengeance _is more ruthless than any other ship on the Caribbean, so perhaps—"

"Ruthless, yes, but stupid, no.  This means only one thing, Rex.  Do you know what it is?"  Rex only shook his head in bewilderment.  Shawn's eyes blazed as he made his confession.  "Captain Blackheart is leaving us a trail to follow.  He wants to be caught, and we're going to oblige him.  Within the fortnight, we will have the captives free."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Fortutos_ and _guamos, sea shell trumpets, let out welcoming blasts as the vessel entered the bay.  People lined the tropical shoreline, waving frantically in welcome.  Equal excitement was evident aboard ship, where it was all the crew could do to restrain the natives on deck from jumping off and swimming to land.  The pirates kept gesturing to the smaller boats which would be used to transport everyone to shore, but to no avail.  To people so long at sea—mostly in captivity—the gleaming golden sand seemed like paradise.  The strangers calling to them had become as dear as family, through their brown skin and familiar language.  One after another the men on deck made the perilous half-mile swim to land.  The pirates gave up trying to forestall them once they saw them arrive safely on terra firma.  They began to laugh and shout encouragements to the men in the water._

Brady and Jason watched the scene with a mixture of amusement and relief.  Yet again, they had successfully brought slaves to freedom.  This was by no means their first journey to this island.  Ever since purchasing the _Vengeance_, they had made periodic stops here, to this small, mountainous, previously uninhabited island, until a large colony of escaped Spanish captives from all over the globe had gathered here.  English pirates, tortured as heretics, intermingled freely with Caribbean natives deprived of their homeland and African slaves, sold away from theirs.  If there was one thing the two hardened men were proud of, it was this haven they had created.

"They'll want to have a banquet as usual," Jason remarked, as the ship dropped anchor just outside the coral reef surrounding the island.  The smaller dinghies and _canoas_ from shore would be used to carry the remaining natives—mainly those too weak to swim—the rest of the way to land.  "Are we going to attend?"

"Why not?" shrugged Brady, the first genuine smile in weeks crossing over his face.  "Consider it our own last supper, Jase."

Jason shot his captain a guarded, searching look out of the corner of his eye.  "You think Shawn is closing in on us?"

"Unless I've underestimated him all these years, I'm sure of it.  He's a good soldier, Jase.  Not to mention we have abducted his fiancé.  He'll feel betrayed and angry and determined to prove himself.  Yes, I would be very surprised if he didn't catch up to us within the week—and that's if we didn't stop here."

"But we are going to make things easier on him."  Jason finished Brady's unspoken reasoning before looking grimly out to sea.  He had known before they took the _Dolphin it would be his death warrant, but then he had been unafraid of death.  He had nothing to live for.  Now, he had found one overwhelming reason to hold onto life._

Brady and Jason were as close as brothers, so it came as no surprise when Brady read his thoughts.  "You know, Jase, I've been thinking," the captain began slowly, not bothering to look at his friend.  "There's really no reason for you to come with us when we leave here tonight.  You could stay on this island with Mimi and start a whole new life for yourself.  At least some good should come of all this."

"Some good already has," Jason replied, nodding towards the first boat headed to shore.  Hawk and Ty were rowing a pregnant woman and her four children to their new home.  "But I won't leave you.  You know that.  We started together.  We'll end together."

Brady tried not to show how moved he was by his first mate's loyalty.  "And Mimi?" he asked gruffly, to cover.

Jason's eyes narrowed as he tried to block out some of the glaring Caribbean midday sun.  All the men had removed their shirts, but they were still sweltering under its unforgiving heat.  "Mimi will live a long, safe, happy life without me…or at least that's what I keep telling myself."

"Yeah," Brady grunted in reply, his thoughts immediately going to Chloe.  He had been trying to convince himself of the same logic regarding her for days now, but all he had to do was picture Philip Kiriakis' smarmy, arrogant face, and his theories fell to pieces.  How could Chloe, full of such fire and passion, ever be happy with such a flaccid husband?

"Are we going to take them to the feast as well?" Jason was asking when Brady forced himself back to attention.

Brady considered the safety aspects for a moment before chuckling as he pictured Chloe's reaction to being left behind.  "I think we'll have to, if we want a ship to return to.  Besides, I don't think there is much to worry about here, do you?"

"Nah," Jason returned flippantly.  "Considering we saved the lives of all the people there, we're pretty safe.  You could probably even take your—Lord Black."  He quickly checked his speech as Winters walked past.

"Not a bad idea.  That way Kev can go too.  I think he's tired of playing nanny to a fifty year old man."  He grinned, remembering the raucousness of previous island celebrations.  It might satiate even Chloe's thirst for excitement.  "I'll get them now."  

Jason waited for his captain to leave before traveling to the railing, watching the progress of the disembarking _Ara'guacu_'_.  Boat after boat made trips to the shore and back, joined by canoes from the island, as they rowed the natives to freedom.  It was a familiar scene to him, from previous ventures, but this time, he received a feeling of contentment from it he hadn't before.  Something had always been missing._

"Does it bother you?"  The soft voice spoke up, disrupting Jason's reverie.

He didn't turn from the rail, as she took her place beside him.  He studied the joyful celebrations taking place on shore, even caught shouts of Taino wafting to the boat.  A wistful smile crossed his face.  "It used to, seeing them all so happy when I couldn't save her."  He didn't explain further but wrapped his arm around Mimi's waist, still watching the shoreline.  "But I'm at peace now.  Everyone is entitled to grab their measure of happiness while they can."

His last words settled heavily on Mimi.  She understood what he left unsaid.  Their time was ending.  She wanted to scream like a child at the unfairness of it.  Surely, after all they'd been through to find each other, they deserved more than a scant few weeks.  Almost unconsciously, she moved closer to him, leaning her head against his broad shoulders.  Her gaze drifted along the miles of sand, the waves rolling over it in reckless abandon.  "It's beautiful here.  A pity we can't stay."

Jason's eyes closed heavily.  He couldn't handle her lightly-spoken words.  They brought to life tantalizing temptations he had to turn away from.  He could not—would not—betray his friend.  He couldn't live with himself, even on an island paradise with the girl of his dreams, if it came at the cost of Brady's life.  "Well, you'll get to set foot on it at least.  The captain went to get Lord Black and the ladies.  We are all going ashore for a _guake'te, a celebratory festival."_

Mimi pulled away to look up at him, her eyes sparkling.  "Oh, Belle will be so pleased!  I've been so worried about how she would react when the last of the natives disembark.  This will ease the parting for her.  And I must admit I'm not opposed to setting foot on solid ground again."

The pirate chuckled at her excitement, allowing her bright smile to send his dark mood away.  "I'll warn you in advance, it takes a moment to get your balance again.  If you try to run on that sand, you'll fall flat on your pretty little face."

Mimi wrinkled her nose.  "I might welcome even that right now.  Anything for a change."

Their conversation was disrupted by the sound of footsteps climbing the ladder, and the emergence of their companions.  Mimi abruptly jumped away from Jason, fearing another dressing down from Lord Black.  She needn't have worried.  The viscount was far too occupied in blinking his way back to recognition of sunlight and walking again after so long in cramped quarters.  Belle and the captain had assumed supportive positions to either side of him, ready to aid him at a moment's notice, while Kevin and Jan stayed a few steps behind.  Chloe, on the other hand, glanced immediately over to the couple upon ascending the deck.  She grinned knowingly, and Mimi felt the telltale blush rise in her cheeks.

A bustle of activity ensued, and Mimi thought it hours—though in reality, no more than twenty minutes—before they were settled in two small _canoas and being rowed to shore.  She sat behind Jason and watched the smooth, rippling motion of the muscles in his back as he brought the oars up and down in a never-ceasing rhythm.  The boat seemed barely to move, so streamlined was its shape and so fluid and sure were Jason's strokes.  Mimi tried not to gawk, but it was impossible as a drop of perspiration made its slow, sultry way down the indentation at the center of his spine.  She licked her lips hungrily, trying to suppress the urge to do everything she had forbidden herself to do long before she met him.  _

Watching him move was doing nothing for her self-control, so she forced her eyes to consider other things.  First, she directed them to the paddles as they made their flowing motion through the clear water, leaving white bubbles in their wake.  But looking at the path the canoe was cutting only brought her mind—and eyes—back to the person responsible for their progress.  No, she must regain her poise.  She glanced over at the other boat, thinking perhaps a glimpse of Belle's angelic face would be enough to remind her of her dignity.  Unfortunately, she noticed Lady Chloe instead, whose attention was raptly focused on Captain Blackheart's own tan, chiseled physique.  With a sigh of surrender, Mimi returned to her fixated study of Jason.  Truly, there were worse ways to spend an afternoon.

~~*~~

It was with regret Chloe felt the boat strike land.  She had been enjoying her uninterrupted view of Brady's body.  It had been remarkably easy to tune out John and Belle's conversation; the hundred or more people pulling the canoe inland and swarming them were another matter entirely.  Belle looked happier than Chloe had ever seen her as native women anointed her with shell necklaces and wreaths of flowers.  Before Chloe had even put a foot on shore, her friend was being dragged to the village amongst a gaggle of giggling girls.  

"Is she going to be all right?" Chloe asked Brady, almost shouting to be heard over the noise of the crowd.  "Shouldn't we go with her?"

Brady laughed, and Chloe reflected with a queer sort of churning in her stomach that it was the first time she had heard him laugh without the customary tinge of bitterness.  "She'll be fine.  They love her, remember?"  Without seeming effort, he jumped to his feet and out of the boat, extending his hand down to Chloe.  "My lady."  Only the mischievous glint in his eyes belied his formality.

Chloe accepted the gesture, permitting him to help her onto the beach.  She felt the sand sink beneath her feet and marveled at its strange texture.  She was seized by a desire to tear off her shoes and stockings and run barefoot through it.  Quickly fighting this urge—as she generally did with the whisperings of her rebellious spirit—she docilely waited for Lord Black to join them.  Her first steps proved to be a mistake however, as she felt her legs give way.

Brady's arms were around her almost before she began to falter.  He chuckled, the sound low and throaty, and Chloe knew again the disquieting, intoxicating warmth of his presence.  "Still making you weak in the knees, am I?" he whispered, so only she could hear.  

She flushed, pushing away from his loose hold on her body.  "I'm going to go find Belle," she announced, more for Lord Black's benefit than his son's.

John looked more amused than anything else.  "You do that, my dear," he drawled with deceptive innocence.

Without daring another glance at Brady, Chloe marched across the sand to pull Mimi—despite her protests—away from Jason, on the search for their friend.  

John was still trying to stifle his laughter when Brady turned towards him.  "You certainly have a way with her, Captain.  I don't think I have seen Chloe display so much emotion since…well, ever."

A sardonic half-smile curved Brady's lips as he watched her retreat into the safety of the _eracra_, the village's women's quarters.  "No, she's always had fire in her.  She always will too."  _Unless Philip bores it out of her, he added silently._

The viscount graced him with a searching look.  Granted, the mask made it difficult, but he was developing a capacity for reading this self-contained young man—his son.  "You…care for her then?"  It was barely a question.

 His jaw was made of flint, and his eyes as well, as he turned to fully face his father.  "It hardly matters what I feel, Your Lordship."

Lord Black wanted to press the matter further, but Jason came over to them, inviting them to join the other men in a game of _batey, a sacred ball game played in a plaza of the same name.  Blackheart set off at once.  Reluctantly, the older man followed._

~~*~~

They would not all meet again until feast time.  While the men took part in ceremonial activities—including the _cohoba_ smoking ceremony—the women prepared the feast.  Chloe, Mimi, Belle, and Jan watched as a fire was lit under the _barbacoa, a four-legged stand, set up for roasting.  The smell of _barbicu___' pig wafted through the village, making them ravenous.  The local women then demonstrated the precise art of making __casabibread, and before long, the English girls were learning to extract the poison from the precious _Yuca___ brava with the aid of the _cibuca'n_._

Before long, they were hot, miserable, and sweaty in their thirty pounds of clothes.  Even Mimi's alterations could not save them from having to wear dresses, petticoats, corsets, stockings, and thick, narrow-toed boots.  They watched the native girls enviously, as they moved lightly and unfettered in their white cotton _inaguas_.  What they wouldn't give for such luxury!  

But their sweltering agony came to an end when some of the women noticed their red faces and sweat-soaked bodies.  They were dragged away from the preparations and led to a roundhouse, with cool baths and a soap called _digo_.  They could hardly wait to take turns to clean themselves; it had been so long since they had been granted the privilege.  Aboard ship, they had had to content themselves with using part of their daily water rations to wash their faces, necks, and hands.  They were also each gifted with their own thin, white dress and pair of sandals.  It was proof of how hot she was that even Belle couldn't be bothered to worry about the propriety of the revealing garment and slipped into hers with a sigh of relief.

Chloe thought no gown of satin could compare to the luxurious feel of this homespun garb against her skin.  It fell only to her knees, gently hugging all the curves of her body.  She felt the breeze brush against her skin and shivered with delight.  Emboldened, she released her hair, allowing it to hang wild and free down her back as the natives did.  She wove an aromatic purple flower into her hair behind her ear, and her liberation was complete.  Any last trace of Lady Chloe Wesley, affianced wife of Philip Kiriakis, was dead and gone.  She was someone new now, someone wild and free, who didn't have to ignore the pull of her heart.

Mimi saw the familiar gleam enter Chloe's eyes and shook her head.  What was the point of all her words of wisdom if Chloe was not even making an attempt to heed them?  Though, she reflected with chagrin, she had not been making any effort to stay pure these past few weeks.  Jason could take more credit for her virtue than she could, by never pushing for more.  She wasn't sure she could have said no if he had.

She knew she couldn't when she met him again at the feast that night.  Her eyes met his over the blazing light of the bonfire, and she felt heat flood her entire body.  The way he looked at her was more intense than anything she had ever dreamed.  She had made a special effort to look lovely.  She felt fresh and clean from her bath, and her hair rested gingerly on her shoulders in thick, sun-bleached waves.  Her head was wreathed in delicate white blooms, giving her an almost regal appearance, like some Greek goddess, or the famed Helen of Troy, whose beauty launched a thousand ships and brought down an empire.  And _he_ was looking at her like _that_.  The flush to her cheeks most definitely had nothing to do with the fire.

Her breath caught as he rose slowly, deliberately from his seat.  With the shadow and flame flickering against his painted skin, he looked almost primal.  Her feet seemed frozen to the spot, as she thought he would come to her.  But he did not.  Rather, he moved to the table where the feast was laid out and piled one of the wooden plates with fruits and delicacies.  He made another stop to retrieve a bowl of something, and all Mimi could do was watch, breathless, every move he made.  He was beautiful to look at.  She had never thought of men as beautiful before, but he was.  Something about his virile presence was going to her head, making her feel dizzy.  She longed for nothing more than to escape the raucous noise of the crowd and let more cooling thoughts come to her fevered brain.

She almost thought Jason had sensed her thoughts as he finally approached her.  Balancing the tray and cup in one hand, he used his other to close around her elbow and usher her away from the festivities.  "Come," was all he said, and Mimi, her arm tingling from his touch, was helpless to do anything but obey.  

He ushered her to one of the roundhouses, empty as everyone else was celebrating.  The one-room house was dark, except for the rays of the fire which sometimes reached even here.  It was silent, as well, so silent that Mimi could hear her own accelerated breathing.  She felt she was on the brink of something, something she had been running from her entire life but now could find no desire to flee.  All her thoughts and emotions were focused only on Jason, watching as he put the plate down on the solitary table in the hut, moistening her lips as she observed him drink deeply from the bowl.  

Jason noticed that gesture and smiled.  He closed the distance between them, cradling the bowl in both hands.  Mimi inhaled deeply of the liquor's sweet scent.  "It's _mabi__'.  Would you like some?"_

The best Mimi could manage was a weak nod.  Rather than handing the bowl to her, Jason lifted it gently to her lips.  Her eyes widened as the first refreshing drops entered her mouth.  It caused a slight burning sensation on the way down, but it made Mimi's whole body seem to come alive with fire.  She felt her toes tingle.  She would have urgently lapped more of the intoxicating brew, but Jason laughed and pulled it away from her.  

"That's enough, Mimi.  I want to be the one to put that look in your eyes, not alcohol."  Before she could even process the full weight of that statement, Jason had backed away from her.  As though distantly, she heard the music begin, the drums, and the strings, and the chanting.  It was exotic and bewitching, and it made her heart start beating in its wild rhythm.  She barely heard the clunk as Jason set down the bowl and reached for something on the plate.  She noticed it was the fruit he had introduced her to on their first night aboard the _Vengeance.  She remembered well the sour, tangy juice of pineapple.  Her mouth watered merely staring at it.  _

Jason appeared in no hurry to satisfy her craving.  He laughed huskily, sending shivers down her spine that did indeed rival those produced by the _mabi__'.  "I didn't forget your fondness for __anana."  _

Mimi could only assume that was the Taino word for pineapple.  She didn't care anymore what it meant.  She was too enchanted with the way the word ruled off his tongue, smooth as butter, sweet as candy.  Her mouth dropped open a little, giving Jason just the opportunity he wanted.  The gap between them once again melted away, as he inserted the rich fruit into her mouth.  The slice was too big, and while she savored the sensation of her bite, the juice of it trickled down onto her lips and chin.  

Embarrassed, she raised her hand to wipe it off, but Jason caught her hand mid-air and brought it back down to her side.  "Allow me," he said smoothly and dropped his grip on her hand to raise his fingers to her face.  She inhaled sharply as his thumb reached out to wipe away every last trace of the fruit from her lips.  He took his time, leisurely teasing her lips with his touch.  Mimi's eyes closed and unwillingly a small moan escaped her lips.

This action apparently only encouraged him, because she felt another piece of _anana_ enter her mouth.  Slowly, she turned it over and over in her mouth, digesting the heavenly taste.  It was impossible to keep the juice from leaking out, and this time, Jason found a new way to torture her.  His tongue swept over her lips, bit by bit, one at a time, licking up the sweet drops of moisture on her mouth.  Mimi's body was betraying her; her knees felt weak, and she wanted to collapse into his arms.  But instead, she pulled away, resisting.  

Jason looked surprised at her withdrawal.  She smiled reassuringly at him, and then looked beyond him, an unknowingly feline curve coming to her mouth.  Barely knowing what she was doing, unwilling to question her motives or consider her virtue, she had been swept away into the very situation she had warned Chloe so strenuously against.  The drums seemed to beat louder, rattling her very bones, as she stepped around Jason and crossed to the table.  It was her turn to tease.  

Feigning a nonchalance she didn't feel, she picked up the bowl of _mabi__' and turned to face him again.  Jason merely raised an eyebrow in question.  Mimi smiled, offering him the drink in the same manner he had, lifting it with both hands to his face.  She allowed him to sip from it, although his eyes never left hers.  As she pulled it away, however, she poured a trickle down the contoured lines of his chest.  Jason appeared shocked, but she merely giggled and echoed his words back to him.  "Allow me."_

Her boldness came from someplace deep inside her, someplace she had tried to deny she even had.  It was base instinct that brought her head down to slowly trail her lips along the path the liquor was taking.  She bent and swirled her tongue around his nipple and was rewarded with a groan of pleasure.  Mimi was smiling as she moved her ministrations to his other side, and then down along the well-defined rows of his abdomen.  His skin was hot and solid, and he tasted like fire and fruit and desire.  

She was unprepared for the suddenness with which he yanked her to her feet.  "Do you know what you do to me?" he cried almost viciously, right before his lips claimed hers with bruising force.  He had kissed her many times over the past few weeks, but never had he seemed to conquer her as he did now.  Mimi's moan was captured by his greedy mouth as he violently plunged his tongue inside hers.  She felt herself being pushed backwards into the wall and stumbled, only to have his hands close around her upper thighs and pull her off the ground.  Still acting on instinct, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, startled by the feeling of him hard and ready beneath her.  It prompted another moan from her lips, and an answering one from his own.

There was something almost frantic in their heated exchange.  They both knew that time was running short for them, that this night might be the only one they would ever have.  Perhaps it was this fear that made Mimi succumb to forces she spent her whole life fighting.  Her hands worked themselves deep into his sandy hair, digging into his scalp, as she matched his tongue, stroke for stroke.  Her back was against the wall, her head a few inches above his as he pinned her there seemingly effortlessly.  Jason's hands had traveled even higher, dragging her dress with them, and still she had no objections to make.  His hips bucked against her in simulation of what was to come, and she tore her mouth away from his with a whimper of desire.

He buried his face in her neck, his teeth gently nipping at her sensitive skin.  She trembled against him, the ache within her growing, making her wet.  She didn't care anymore about her mother's history, about all she had learned of men growing up on the docks.  All that mattered was Jason, and this need inside her, a need only he could fill.  Jason's mouth reclaimed hers, and she was lost to all else but him.  Until…

"Mimi?" Belle's voice called from the doorway, and then she froze.  Her always pale face drained of color and her mouth dropped open, as she saw her maid pressed up against the wall of a reed hut, her dress pushed nearly to her waist, and a pirate in her arms.  Mimi and Jason broke apart almost at once.  Mimi's feet touched the ground, as she tried to smooth her dress down.  But it was too late.  The damage had been done.  

"E-excuse me," the lady stammered, as the color climbed again into her cheeks, turning them a brilliant crimson.  "I…I d-didn't know."  There was so much she didn't know, obviously.  "I'll leave now."  Woodenly, she made herself turn around and exit the house.

"Lady Black, wait!" Mimi cried, sense returning to her, as she tried to take after her mistress.  Jason caught her arm, and she turned back to him, fury radiating from her eyes.

"Let her go, Mimi.  You have to let her go."

Mimi stood defiant for a few moments more, before reality set in, and she crumpled into his arms, weeping tears of humiliation and misery.  Belle would never understand.

~~*~~

Belle's mind was numb as she ran unseeing through the crowd and down to the beach.  She couldn't think.  She couldn't see.  All there was for her was the emblazoned image of Mimi and Jason as they had been, of her trusted maid and friend willingly and passionately returning the embraces of one of their captors.  She thought she was going to be ill as she stumbled and fell onto the sand, bitter salt tears stinging her eyes.  Her hands dug deep into the ground, while her eyes rose to stare at the vast shimmering sky, as if she would find the answers written in the stars.  

Nothing in her sheltered lifetime had prepared Lady Belle Black for what she had just seen.  She had heard all the vicars preaching from their pulpits of the evils of fornication.  She had been taught from birth that a woman's most priceless possession was her virtue.  She had believed it all, every last word, and had looked on the inevitability of marital relations as something not to be thought about, to be pushed from one's mind in order to stay pure.  To her, marriage had meant a sort of playing house, with Shawn as her adoring admirer.  She had never thought it would entail…that.

What struck her as most wrong about what she had seen was that Mimi didn't seem to be in pain, was not frightened by the loss of virtue.  Indeed, until she had seen Belle and become embarrassed, she had been—dare Belle think it?—_enjoying the pirate's caresses.  He wasn't even her husband!  _

The world had gone insane.  That was all there was to it, Belle decided.  Ever since they had left the predictable safety of England, everyone around her had been slowly going mad.  Or was everyone else sane, while she was the misguided one?  She didn't know.  Once she would have known.  When her world made sense, she would have been able to denounce her maid with absolute certainty as a fallen woman, an evil harlot.  But this was Mimi; her best friend, the person who took care of her when she was sick, and held her while she cried.  Mimi wasn't evil.  But then, was everything she had learned on her mother's knee wrong?  She couldn't make herself believe that either.  It would shatter the whole system her life was built upon…and that system was all she had left.  

"Lady Black?" came a concerned voice, as she heard footsteps behind her on the beach.  "Are you all right?"

Angrily, she brushed away the remnants of her tears and forced herself to her feet.  She turned around to face him, her normally kind face ablaze with fury.  "This is all your fault!  If it weren't for you and your…_men," she spat out the last word, "none of this would be happening.  I would still have my best friends.  They would still have their…this is your fault!!"_

The captain took a step backwards from the force of her fury.  He had seen in Belle's care of the people on ship that she was not the fragile doll they had originally assumed her to be.  But this…where was this anger coming from?  "Is something wrong, my lady?"

She hated that his voice was so gentle, that his body language spoke of concern rather than affront, that he seemed comforting, not intimidating.  She hated that she liked and trusted him, with no logical reason for it.  It would be so much easier to hate him, to blame him for everything that was topsy-turvy in her life, but she could not.  Deep inside, she knew whatever was happening with Mimi and Chloe, it was because they wanted it to.  They _wanted _to be the very thing that frightened Belle most.   She was losing them because of it. 

"No, nothing's wrong," she answered dully, her shoulders sagging in defeat, as the last of her anger left her.  "Nothing is wrong.  I'm fine.  I'll be fine."

She saw Blackheart's frown, and it was consoling somehow.  He seemed to actually care about her.  "Are you sure, m'lady?  You seemed angry just now."

Belle could not find the heart to reply.  For perhaps the first time in her life, she committed the sin of not answering a direct question.  She shrugged her shoulders, as any common girl would do and didn't care.  

His expression grew even darker.  "You said it was my fault," he commented, when it became clear she was not going to answer.  "You said you were losing your friends, and it was my fault.  I fail to understand, my lady."

"Don't tell me that," Belle uncharacteristically snapped at him.  "I'm not as blind as everyone likes to think.  I'm not stupid, Captain.  I know something is going on between you and Chloe, and Mimi and Mr. Masters.  Don't you see?  Don't you understand it will ruin them?"

Even in the night, she could see his jaw tense.  The waning moon cast strange shadows on his face, and his eyes seemed a queer silvery blue.  "Your worry is unjustified, Lady.  Soon, both you and your friends will be safely on your way to Jamaica…and with your own fiancé, I am sure."

She blanched at his mention of Shawn.  "How do you know that?  How do you even know about Shawn?  You know nothing!  You don't know that he's coming for me; you don't even know if he loves me."

The masked man chuckled, the sound making her jump in its suddenness.  "There may not be many things I can say with certainty, Lady Black, but I can tell you without a doubt that Shawn Douglas Brady loves you.  I've heard it from his own lips."

Belle started again, her eyes raking over him suspiciously.  "How do you know Shawn?"

He waved her question away, as though it were a mosquito bothering him.  "I have no doubt he will explain when you see him again."  He took a step closer to her, and strangely, she felt no fear as he placed strong hands on her shoulders and lowered his head to meet her gaze.  The gesture was strangely reminiscent of her father.  "And you will see him again, my lady.  I promise you.  All of this will soon be no more than a memory.  You need not worry for yourself or your friends.  Everything will be as it was."

Listening to the calm certainty of Blackheart's voice, she wanted to believe him, but the image of Mimi and Jason flashed again before her eyes.  Belle stepped away, shaking her head.  "You're wrong, Captain.  Even if, as you say, we go on with our journey as planned, nothing will ever go back to the way it was.  You've changed all that was supposed to be…for all of us."

Before he even had time to try deciphering her cryptic statement, Belle had taken off again, back to the safety of the crowded feast.  People were dancing now, around the fire, to the beat of the drums, but she did not notice.  Her eyes combed the gathering for her father, and when she saw him, she rushed to throw herself in his arms.  John, shocked momentarily, nevertheless held her to him.  "Are you all right, Izzy?"

Chloe, who had been sitting beside him, looked even more distressed.  What had happened to make her normally upbeat friend so upset?  She nervously reached out a hand to stroked back Belle's blonde hair.  "Belle, tell us what happened.  Did someone hurt you?"

Belle pulled away from her friend's touch and back from her father's shoulder.  She wiped away the tears which had sprung unwillingly to her eyes.  Her eyes pleaded with her father, and he seemed to understand her need to be alone with him.  

"Chloe, would you mind allowing Belle and I a chance to talk?" he asked smoothly.  

The young Lady Wesley looked from one to the other for a few seconds before shaking her head.  "Of course not, Lord Black."  She turned to her friend, pity in her eyes.  "I'm here if you need me, Belle."  She barely waited for Belle's nod of acknowledgement, before walking to the other side of the crowd and disappearing from sight.

Belle moved away from her father to take the seat Chloe had vacated, but she still kept a tight grip on his hand.  He studied the worry lines on her face, the tense look in her eyes.  "What's the matter, Izzy?" he asked again, in his cajoling way.

She shook her head, trying to find words for everything weighing on her mind.  Finally, she had to look away, into the depths of the bonfire, before she could speak the words.  "Everything's changing."

John thought he began to see what was bothering his daughter, but he allowed her to figure it out for herself.  "Such as…?"

"Such as Mimi and Chloe," Belle ranted bitterly.  

"Ah," was her father's knowing reply.  "Are you sure they have changed so much, Izzy?  I think perhaps you are rather beginning to notice that your friends are not like you, and they want different things from their lives than you want from yours."

"I don't know what I want anymore," Belle murmured so softly John had to lean forward to hear her.  

He looked surprised.  This he had not expected.  "What do you mean, Izzy?"

The lady's gaze traveled the length of the village, seeing recognized faces from their journey intermingled with villagers.  She was silent for a long time, and when she finally spoke, Lord Black had the distinct feeling she was not talking to him.  "For the first time in my life, I felt useful.  I helped these people, Papa.  I don't…I don't want to leave them.  What am I leaving them for anyway?  For friends who don't need me, for a future husband I barely know, for a life I'm not even sure about.  What is the point of it all?"

John gazed at his little girl in shock.  With blinding clarity, he realized she was a little girl no longer.  She was a woman now, but she was still his daughter, and she was hurting.  Gently, he prodded her chin until she looked up at him.  He saw tears in her baby blue eyes, and they almost broke him.  "Do you love Shawn, my girl?"

"I…"  Belle bit her lip, then looked down at the ruby ring on her finger, absently twisting it.  She remembered Shawn's nervousness as he asked her, and his delight when she said yes.  She remembered the sweet boyishness of his smile, and the blissful feeling of his kiss.  "Yes, Papa, I love him," she declared, with increased confidence.

Lord Black breathed a sigh of relief.  To have come all this way, only to face such a horrifying truth would have been devastating indeed.  "Then, the rest will sort itself out as you go.  I know…I know your mother and I never set you much of an example, but I do know what it is to love—"

"I know, I know.  You loved Isabella and Brady," Belle snapped, causing her father to flinch.  She took a calming breath.  "I'm sorry, Papa, but I don't think I can handle hearing about them tonight.  I know that I…that I never…"

Horrified, John pulled her to him in a fierce hug.  "Izzy, I love you.  I have always loved you.  I'm sorry if I was not capable of telling you as much as I should have, but I do."  He pulled away, and flicked her chin.  "I only had one true love, and I only had one son, but I also only had one daughter, and you are as precious to me as either of them."

Tears flickered momentarily in Belle's eyes as she heard the words of validation she had waited her entire life for.  Suddenly, the rest didn't seem so unbearable.

~~*~~

Chloe was at a loss what to do with herself when she left the Blacks.  Her eyes searched the crowd for Mimi, but she caught her in a rather intense conversation with Jason and decided it was best not to interrupt.  The frenzied crowd was beginning to wear on her nerves.  How long could a celebration go on after all?  Looking up, she caught the light of the moon and the fire of the stars.  It drew her as always, and she found herself following the sound of the waves out to the beach.  She wanted to lose herself in the wind and the water and the moonlight.  The sounds of the banquet only reached here as a low rumbling in the background.  The dominant sound was the rhythmic crash of the waves on the shore.  Chloe found she liked it even more than the gentle lapping of water against the boat hull.  

She was not surprised when she found Brady standing on the beach, looking out at the waves.  It seemed natural that she would be drawn to where he was.  It was being apart from him that was unnatural.  His arms were crossed in front of him, and he seemed to be searching the horizon.  She could feel the tension radiating out from him.  Every well-defined muscle in his back, neck, and shoulders was strung to the breaking point.  

She knew he heard her behind him, but he didn't turn around, even when she laid her gentle, soothing hands onto the taut muscles in his upper arms.  In an effort to sooth him, she pressed her lips against the fevered skin of his back shoulder.  "What are you thinking about?"  Her tone was light and coaxing, as she tried to penetrate beneath his shell.

His right hand came up to close over her left hand, still on his arm.  He gave it a squeeze.  "You."  He let his hand drop with a heavy sigh.  "Belle.  Shawn.  My father.  How much I want the sun not to come up tomorrow morning."

"Why?"  The lightness was gone from her voice.  It had acquired much of Brady's tension, plus a hint of her own fear.  "What's going to happen tomorrow?"

"Nothing," Brady reassured her.  "We are going to leave this island, that's all."

Chloe frowned.  His reply was too smooth, too quick.  "What else happens tomorrow, Brady?  What aren't you telling me?"

He finally dragged his eyes away from the sea and turned to her.  Her hands slipped down to rest on his lower back, while he reached up to cup her face.  He kissed her lightly.  "I'm just looking ahead, Chloe.  I'm sure nothing will happen tomorrow…but after tomorrow, comes the next day, and the next, and the next."  His fingers absentmindedly stroked the smooth surface of her skin.  "I shouldn't dread it so much.  Belle needs to be back with Shawn.  That's the only way she'll feel safe."

His dark-haired lady watched him in silence for long moments, taking stock of his emotions as well as her own.  Finally, she turned her face in order to kiss his palm.  "What about what we need, Brady?" she whispered.  

The pirate's whole façade of strength seemed to crumble with her softly spoken words.  His hands dropped from her face, and he turned away again, trying to shut her out.  "We knew it would be like this, Chloe.  I told you—I warned you."

She couldn't bear to see him like this.  In a moment, she had her arms wrapped about him from behind again.  "I know. I know, Brady.  I know what you're going to do, and why you're doing it."  She brought her hands to his shoulders, exerting gentle pressure to turn him towards her, to make him see that she was still there and wasn't going anywhere.  "You think you're not noble.  You think I idealize you.  But whatever you may have done in the past, _this is noble.  You are sacrificing yourself for your father and sister, even though you never knew them before now, even though they don't know who you are.  I'm not trying to stop you.  I would never stand in the way of what you think is right.  But there's something you have to understand…whatever happens tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, I…I love you, Brady Black.  That's what I need.  I need you to know that."_

He watched her in silence for a long time, so long that Chloe began to get nervous.  She dropped her hand, and her gaze began to settle on the sand, which glowed white in the moonlight.  "I…I didn't…don't expect you to—"

The rest of her attempt to backtrack would never be uttered, as Brady swept her close to him and rained showers of kisses upon her face.  She felt the gentle love in him, more than the passion that had swept them away on the deck of the _Vengeance so many weeks ago, and she returned his embrace with a longing that had nothing to do with her fiery spirit.  It was rebellion no longer.  It was…right._

Finally, he broke away, her face still cradled in his hands, their foreheads resting close together.  "Chloe, I won't say those words to you," he said hoarsely, bringing Chloe's eye rushing to his in surprise.  "I feel them, but I won't say them.  You are not going to be bound to me in any way; do you understand?  Once I am gone, you are free."

A sad, almost bitter, twist curved Chloe's naturally full lips.  "I am free already, Brady, but I am bound to you in every way.  I don't need your permission to feel what I feel—or not feel what I don't.  I don't need you to protect my virtue either."  There was a heavy, telling weight on her last sentence, as her eyes sparked their determination.  

He read her intent and tried to intervene.  "Chloe, I—"

She hushed him with a finger to his lips, which she quickly covered with her mouth.  The gentle pressure increased, as she entwined her arms around him, pulling her body into contact with his.  Her kiss became demanding.  Chloe had always been passionate; tonight, she was desperate, desperate for one last chance to experience love.  

He could feel every curve of her body through the thin dress she had been given, and it was affecting him in all the wrong ways in all the wrong places.  His brain told him to push her away, while his heart and body were united in their mutiny.  Without consent, his arms wrapped about her, pulling her even tighter, tight enough no one would ever be able to take her away from him.  His Siren had called, and all around him might perish on the rocks, but he would survive.  

Chloe pulled away suddenly, a soft smile crossing her lips.  "Now, was that really so difficult?"

Try as he might, he couldn't manage an answering grin.  "We're making a mistake, Chloe.  I promised my father—"

"I know what you promised your father," she cut him off shortly.  "But it was a promise respecting _me.  Your father, much as I respect and admire him, has no control over my life.  I release you from your vow, Brady.  I want you to love me.  I _need _you to love me."  _

She pressed eager lips to his again, and it was no point trying to fight her.  It was only as she began her exploration of his chest, as fingers and mouth began to trail across his skin, Brady was able to struggle for sanity again.  He grabbed her gently and put her away from him.  "Not here, Chloe," he muttered hoarsely.  It was taking all his strength not to ravish her right here on the sand.  He cast a look back at the village where the fire was waning, and people were beginning to settle down for the night.  "Not now."

"If not here and now, then when?" Chloe protested.  "You and I both know we don't have forever.  We may not even have beyond tomorrow.  And I want this, Brady.  It's a memory I can treasure forever."

Brady was spared the necessity of answering by the sound of a sea shell trumpet in the harbor.  He pulled away from her, in order to make out who was coming.  Four _canoas_ were pulling to shore, returning from a fishing trip, laden with food.  The blast they had sent out was soon answered by one from shore, and those still awake and sober enough to stagger to the beach came to greet them.  Jason, Mimi, John, and Belle were among the first to arrive.  They joined Brady and Chloe in waiting for the boats to be pulled in.

Jason and Brady stepped forward along with the village elders to greet them and ask questions of their journey.  The others couldn't help moving a bit closer to eavesdrop on what was being said.  Chloe and Mimi relied on Belle, who had picked up her share of Taino, to translate what was being said for them.  "Jason just asked them if they saw any other ships while they were out," Belle whispered.  

Mimi and Chloe exchanged a look of dread, as they waited for the reply.  Unconsciously, they grabbed for the other's hand, as if to support each other when the blow they knew was coming fell.  "What did he say?" Chloe forced herself to ask, when the fisherman stopped speaking.

Lady Black turned to her friends, a smile on her face which quickly died when she saw their distressed looks.  "He said an English naval boat is two days behind them and headed on course after us."

Mimi thought her hand would break from how tightly Chloe squeezed it.  Her eyes met Jason's.  He shook his head, and she knew it was all coming to its inevitable end.  Everything she had foreseen would come true.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**[A/N:  **I'm not going to change the rating of this story, because I don't consider the scene explicit, but you should know that there is definite sexual content in this chapter.  If this offends you, please don't read it.**]**

**Chapter Fifteen**

A line of stony-faced men, brown, white, and black, stood like statues along the beach front as the H.M.S. _Miranda_ approached the island.  Many were carrying spears; some had swords; a few—obviously former pirates—clutched pistols.  They spoke not a word, to each other or to the similarly solemn sailors onboard the naval vessel.  The tension hung thick among them.

"Commander, what would you have us do?" Rex inquired crisply, his eyes never leaving the grim men awaiting them.

Shawn's gaze traveled swiftly over them, searching for even one familiar face.  "Gather a dozen men.  We'll take a rowboat to shore."

The lieutenant tried to conceal his surprise.  "Sir, I must advise against this.  Who knows what those ruffians will attempt?  They look like they are capable of almost anything."

"I gave you an order, Evans," Shawn returned evenly.  He didn't need reminding of the danger of this expedition, but he needed to know if the _Vengeance had been here.  He needed to know he was on the right track.  _

Fifteen minutes later, he stood on the stretch of blinding white sand, glinting against the sun's light as he struggled to make out the features of the men before him.  His own men were positioned behind him, ready to fight at the slightest word from him.  Their eyes darted to and fro, and several of them reached nervously for their swords.  The island dwellers still had not moved.  Shawn began to wonder if they even blinked.  

"We're not here to cause you any trouble," he informed them loudly.  "We need to know if a pirate ship called the _Vengeance has passed this way."_

One of the rough-looking Englishmen chuckled.  "You could say that is has.  It's brought every single person on this island at some point or another."

Shawn winced.  He wasn't going to find any allies here.  The truth was before Belle was taken, he would have done everything in his power to protect Brady too.  He had believed in Blackheart's honor more than anyone.  He pushed thoughts of his deceitful friend out of his head and focused on the mission at hand—namely, to get out of here alive and with more information than when he came.  "None of you need fear.  You shall not be punished or removed in any way, but you must tell me if the _Vengeance _has stopped here recently."

"And why would yeh be needin' to know that, eh?" growled a crusty old sailor missing an arm.

"We have reason to believe Captain Blackheart and his crew recently boarded an English merchant vessel and took several captives, including ladies," Shawn returned.  His voice remained calm but laced with steel and all the arrogance only a British naval officer was entitled to.  He would not be intimidated by these outlaws.  "It is imperative for their safety that we locate the _Vengeance _as quickly as possible."

A man near the middle of the line snorted insolently and stepped forward.  "Those wenches are in less danger on Blackheart's ship than they would be on any other vessel in these waters—includin' yours, Commander Brady."

Shawn didn't allow his shock to register on his face at being addressed by his proper name.  He studied the burly man before him.  "Pardon me," he drawled, "but I don't believe I have the pleasure of your acquaintance."

The pirate made the same ridiculing noise and mocked a curtsy in the officer's direction.  "My, my, we do have manners.  Name's Winters, and until two days ago, I was a sailor aboard the _Vengeance."_

"Then, the ship did stop here?"  Not all the British diffidence in the world could keep the eagerness out of Shawn's question.

Winters sneered.  "No, I just swam."

Lieutenant Evans was more disturbed by the pirate's lack of respect than his commander.  He took several long strides forward, his hand on his sword hilt.  "You are addressing an officer in His Majesty's Royal Navy, sir.  Watch your tone."

His righteous indignation did nothing but earn laughter from several of the men along the shore and an irritated wave of dismissal from Shawn.  All he wanted was to get Winters' statement as quickly as possible, so they could be on their way.  The trail was hot now.  

"Lord Black and the ladies, are they unharmed?"

The pirate turned back to him, his eyes showing grudging respect.  "Not a mark on 'em.  Cap'n gave orders not to touch 'em, and Masters don' let a thing get by him."  He grimaced, remembering his late-night encounter with the maid and the first mate.  

Shawn breathed a sigh of relief.  His Belle was all right.  "Which way were they headed?"

Winters gestured along the horizon.  "Due West.  Cap'n was gonna stop off at another island, 'til you caught up to him."

"Then, I was right.  He wants to get caught."  Shawn frowned as the pirate nodded.  "But why?"

"Reckon you'd have to ask him that, wouldn' you?" he shrugged.  

Realizing the blackguard wasn't going to volunteer information unasked, Shawn decided to pursue the interrogation more aggressively.  "So why are you here if your ship is not?"

"Night 'fore they left, we found out you was on our tail.  Cap'n made a speech, said how we wasn' gonna fight the British navy, and how we'd all be taken and hanged.  Told anyone who wanted to stay alive to stay righ' here on the island."

Shawn winced.  What suicide mission was Brady intent upon?  He felt some of his anger melt away in the face of his friend's gesture.  This all seemed so senseless.  "How many stayed?"

"Not a one," Winters replied, his already barrel-sized chest puffing out further in pride.  "I only stayed because Cap'n wanted someone to stay behind and tell you where they went."

Rex stepped forward again.  "I don't like this, Commander.  How can we take the word of a pirate?  He could be leading us into an ambush."

Winters spat at the ground by the taller man's feet, showing clearer than words ever could what he thought of the lieutenant's interference.  "A pirate's word is as good as any man's, and better than some."

A bitter smile crossed Shawn's face.  He had trusted Brady's honor.  When the _Dolphin _was taken, that faith had been destroyed.  How was he supposed to get it back now?  Yet what other choice did he have?

~~*~~

The sway of the ship when at rest was quite different from the pounding it experienced when cutting its way through the waves.  When still, the rhythm took on a lulling quality, reminiscent of a rocking chair at home.  When John closed his eyes, that image never failed to appear to him; Isabella rocking the baby to sleep, a gentle song upon her lips.  It was a soothing, reassuring memory, and he felt at peace anchored off the coast of a small island he had not even seen, waiting patiently for this adventure to be at an end.

He knew he was alone in this emotion.  Everyone around him was in an highly agitated state.  Belle could hardly contain her excitement when she had come to visit her father the night before.  She was about to see Shawn again, and she was walking on air.  But she was the only one.  The pirates were uncharacteristically quiet.  Blackheart, Masters, and Lambert all had the hopeless faces of condemned men when they took their shifts and sat with him as though nothing had changed.

Worst to see, however, were Chloe and Mimi.  Their features grew more desolate, their faces paler every time he saw them.  Red eyes and dark circles under them stood as testimony to the tears they never let anyone see fall and the sleepless nights spent all alone.  It was taking everything they had in them, but they refused to let their weakness show.

But their faces weren't the ones that invaded John's dreams.  Isabella's was, and he was comforted.  He rubbed a hand down his face as the early morning light penetrated his cell.  Blinking his eyes open, he slowly stretched out on the thin cot.  His neck was sore, not a new feeling, but one he tried to ignore.

"Good morning, Your Lordship."

John hid the smile that crossed his visage as he heard the now-familiar deep tones.  Leisurely, he rose to a sitting position, swinging his feet onto the ground.  "Morning, son," he mumbled sleepily.

A sharp intake of breath followed by absolute silence greeted his absent-minded response.  John finally settled his gaze on the masked pirate.  Nothing was discernable from the captain's expression, but his shoulders underneath the loose, white, draw-stringed shirt were tense; his jaw was set tightly.  Silence reigned.  The viscount was hesitant to do or say anything, curious to see what the boy would make of his slip of the tongue.  For now, he was content to merely meet the piercing blue eyes so like his own.

"Are you hungry this morning, Your Lordship?" escaped the captor's lips, through gritted teeth.  He too seemed unsure what to make of the situation, perhaps wondering if the thoughtless comment meant anything.

John shook his head.  "No, not yet.  Any sight of the navy?"

"I don't expect Shawn until tomorrow morning.  They should be arriving at the settlement today, and we traveled for a day before we stopped here."  The captain tried to make his words casual, but that searching expression had not yet left him.

Lord Black nodded thoughtfully.  "And then you and your crew will be taken and hanged…."

Blackheart frowned at his leading tone.  "Yes…" he returned, equally evasive.

"For kidnapping us from the _Dolphin?"_

"And taking the _El Diablo_, don't forget," was the sardonic reply.  "You give yourself entirely too much credit, Your Lordship.  I was a wanted man long before you came into the picture."

"Ah, that's right," John continued, still in that laidback, distracted tone.  It was beginning to annoy his counterpart as shown by the pirate's increasingly restless state.  He was actually enjoying watching the younger man squirm.  He dragged it out as long as possible, before coming to the point.  "What was it you said to me my first day on board, Captain?  Something about finding out what Spain truly does and reporting back to the King, I believe.  You asked me to talk to the men, to see the results of the Inquisition.  I have done that, you know.  I learned even more by talking to the freed slaves on that island.  So in essence, you fulfilled a vital task for His Majesty's government, by bringing his ambassador safely to naval escort."

The frown on Blackheart's face only deepened, as he raised his voice to object.  "You and I both know that's not what I did.  I—"

"As I shall bring to Commander Brady's attention," John continued, as though he had never been interrupted.  "I shall bring it to King Charles himself, if I have to.  I do have an audience with him, you know, expressly upon my return to England.  He wants me to render my opinion on the wisdom of war with Spain in the West Indies.  I intend to tell him that, from all I have seen, England would be doing a great moral wrong by continuing to turn our back on these atrocities.  I intend to advise him on the necessity of bringing Spanish influence on the Main to an end.  I shall advise him to go to war, beginning by chartering the buccaneers and pirates to fight for us."

Nothing could have hidden the look of delight that flittered across the pirate's countenance.  It was what he had hoped and prayed for since he sent those papers with Shawn to the Admiralty.  Perhaps his life—and the loss of it—would come to something good after all.  "I'm pleased to hear it, Your Lordship.  Others will be as well."

"Yes, I imagine they will."  John gave his son another scrutinizing look.  "Of course, we'll need the very best of your lot, those that know these waters, the Spanish methods and movements.  It won't be an easy task.  Someone with your expertise would be invaluable."

The pirate was visibly shaken by his words.  "Are you implying that you intend to intercede on my behalf, sir?"

"I would hardly be a gentleman if I did not, Captain," John responded, trying to keep the smile from his face and failing miserably.  "You have kept us safe all these weeks.  You are bringing us into the custody of my daughter's fiancé—despite the fact that it could presumably lead to your demise.  I think that shows extraordinary character and should be rewarded.  I shall say so to the King.  I have no intention of letting you or your men hang because of me."

A look of awe and relief passed over the younger man's face, and the burden he'd been struggling under for weeks was lifted.  "Why would you do that…for me?" he asked, once he was sure he could speak with a steady voice.

There was a long pause as John tried to discern how best to proceed.  He cleared his throat nervously before beginning, never letting his gaze waver.  "I sense something in you, something that reminds me of myself when I was younger.  Beyond that, you remind me of someone I lost once."  The younger man paled but could not bring himself to respond.  John tried a different tactic.  "Your mother…you never did tell me…what was her name?"

Blackheart choked.  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.  He shut it, took a deep breath, and then tried again.  "Why…what…?"  His eyes collided with his father's, and suddenly, he knew.  "You know, don't you?"

It took all of John's willpower to keep a calm demeanor as he softly repeated the question.  "What was her name, son?"

The words they had both been waiting for poured forth from Brady's lips.  "Isabella.  Isabella Tuscano…Black."

A profound silence fell over them.  John stood, though feeling his legs could never support him.  His eyes stung with unshed tears, which he did not even try to blink away.  His eyes devoured the strong man standing before him.  "Brady," he breathed finally, his lips forming the word of the son he had given up for dead.  "Brady, my boy…"

In another moment, the iron of the cell bars would have been unlocked. In another moment, Father and Son would have been able to embrace.  In another moment, the pain of twenty years could have been wiped away.  But still, fate could not be kind.  Kevin's familiar knock sounded on the door as he arrived to take his guard shift.  Brady stood frozen for a moment, unsure what to do, but John merely jerked his head towards the door, and he obeyed, opening the hatch to admit his second mate.

Kevin merely grunted a greeting and took his accustomed seat across from the cell, kicking his feet up in order to get more comfortable for his prolonged nap.  Brady remained for several long moments, simply staring at his father.  Finally, John grinned at him, and he felt an answering smile light up his face.

"Only one day before the navy arrives, eh?" John commented speculatively, his eyes traveling to the small porthole.  "Seems a pity to waste it on this dusty old boat.  Aren't we off the coast of some island?  I imagine the girls wouldn't mind an outing, and I believe you have some news to tell them."  Still, Brady hesitated a moment, drinking in the sight of a father who loved him, who had never forgotten.  "Go on.  Chloe's been miserable long enough."

The mention of Chloe did the trick.  Brady was snapped back to reality, and with one quick nod to his father, he left the room.  Abandoning the deserted lower level, Brady practically flew up the ladders until he reached the deck.  The mood among his crew was definitely subdued, but he didn't feel like making the big announcement yet.  They would find out they were spared only when it was an accomplished fact.  No point in raising their hopes for nothing.  For himself, no amount of reason could keep him down.  He was going to live!  He was going to live, and love, and have a family.

He hastily searched the deck for his first mate, finding him looking out of the crow's nest.  Since they had left the village two days before, his eyes had rarely left the water they'd traversed.  He was waiting, wanting to be the first to spot the naval vessel.  Brady grinned.  Shawn was no object of fear anymore, not with his father on his side.  He cupped both hands around his mouth, and hollered, "Oi!  Jase, get down here!  Have I got some news for you!"

~~*~~

Belle was doing her best to stay calm and appear miserable for her friends' sakes.  Honestly, it wasn't difficult.  Every time she looked at Chloe's or Mimi's face, she felt a pang of guilt deep inside her for looking forward to the event which was bringing them so much pain.  They didn't ask her for pity though.  They didn't seem to want it.  In fact, they avoided all mention of the upcoming capture.  Whenever Belle mentioned Shawn, they both forced polite, fake smiles on their faces and said not a word in protest.  She had occasionally noticed one or the other leave the room for an extended period of time and come back with very red eyes, but not once did they grieve in front of her.

She admired their courage, even if she could not understand it.  If she knew Shawn was going to meet his death, she would be screaming and crying, begging him not to leave her.  Belle had seen no traces of that.  If they happened to be in a room with Brady or Jason, Chloe and Mimi stayed near their loved one, but not one word was spoken to reveal the inner anguish they must be going through.

Finally, she had had enough.  This tense silence was worse by far than any amount of wailing her friends might do.  At least if they would cry, she could comfort them.  How could she sympathize with a pain they refused to show?  "Would one of you please say something?" she burst out in the middle of the quiet cabin.

Chloe, Mimi, and Jan all looked up at her in confusion.  Mimi and Jan were sewing—more for an occupation than any real merit from it.  Chloe was absently turning over the pages in the solitary book aboard ship. She'd already read it five times, out of sheer boredom.  "What would you have us say?" she remarked calmly, setting the volume down.

"Something!  Anything!" Belle ranted, from her position on the cot.  "Scream at me for being happy.  Cry for tomorrow.  Something!"

"What's the point of crying over something that hasn't happened yet?" Mimi returned, her composure completely unruffled.  She kept on with her needlework, involving some of the lace she'd removed from the Spanish dresses.  

Belle's astonishment must have shown on her face, for Chloe chuckled at her.  It was far from her usual joy-filled laugh; it had in it the damper of experience.  "Shut your mouth, Belle; it's unladylike," she echoed Belle's oft-spoken words back at her.

"How can you both be so calm about this?  I mean, I know we've never said it in words, but I know…"  She looked pointedly at Mimi, the memory of that night still fresh in her mind.

Mimi flushed, but her glance was warning as she turned her eyes from Belle to Jan and back again.  It was then Belle noticed how much attention the other maid was paying to their discussion.  She blushed, realizing what she was thoughtlessly exposing her friends to.  They didn't want Jan to know.  She could hardly blame them.  They knew nothing about that girl, really, and none of them felt like she was one of them.

"Oh," Belle breathed, as silence once more descended over the room.

It didn't last long, before it was broken again.  This time, the culprit was a man knocking on the door.  Mimi opened the door, and the two men in their thoughts entered.  Belle watched her friends' reactions as an impartial observer.  Mimi immediately sought out Jason's eyes, and he smiled reassuringly at her.  He squeezed her hand as they entered.  The captain, meanwhile, had winked none-too-subtly at Chloe, causing her to blush and smile.  And they had been upset with Belle!  Those two were so transparent it wasn't even funny.

"We've come to invite you all on a trip to the island.  We might as well enjoy our last day of freedom," Blackheart began, his eyes finally leaving Chloe to wander over all four women, settling fondly on Belle.

Belle thought they seemed rather flippant for men about to die.  There was something almost sarcastic in his words.  She couldn't focus on that, however, as the others all seemed to be looking to her to decide matters.  Part of her wanted desperately to escape the confines of the cabin, but as she surveyed the four lovers around her, she understood the one thing she could do for them.  She could give them this last day.  She could forget about all the rules of social order and give them one last day.  "Actually, I'm feeling rather tired.  I think I might still be suffering the aftereffects of my illness.  I would rather stay here, if that's all right with everyone."

Mimi's face immediately fell as she rushed to Belle's side.  "You never said a word about being ill," she scolded, her hand feeling her mistress's head for signs of fever.  "What do you need?  Would you like some water, my lady?"

Belle swatted her hand away.  "I'm fine.  I just need some peace and quiet.  I think you should go to the island, Chloe as well.  Jan can stay here with me.  She is perfectly capable of attending me should anything happen."  Jan looked disgruntled at being denied the outing but, for once, kept her mouth shut.  

"Yes, Mimi, let's go," Chloe pleaded, her eyes settled firmly on Blackheart's masked face, her brow creasing in confusion.  She could tell he was keeping something from her.

Mimi studied her lady thoroughly, but Belle held up admirably well under the scrutiny.  She sat angelically still and pious.  Finally, the maid turned her head to Jason, and it was all decided.  A nod and a smile were all the answer the others needed.  Belle grinned as the four said their goodbyes and left.  No conflicting emotions tortured her.  She refused to contemplate the words her vicar would have if he could see what she had done.  As the sounds of the happy party receded into the distance, Belle turned her attention to her one remaining companion.  She sighed as Jan picked up Chloe's discarded book.  It was going to be a long day.

~~*~~

By mutual consent, the foursome separated as soon as they reached the island.  Blackheart and Chloe headed off into the thick, lush greenery, while Jason took Mimi's hand to lead her along the coast.  Mimi sighed blissfully as she surveyed the foreign scenery.  Even though they were walking along a tropical beach, it could not have presented a greater contrast to the one they had left only two days before.  She had always pictured islands to have those golden sandy beaches and tropical forests.  The shore she walked upon now was black and gritty.  The vegetation was interspersed with rocky crags and abrupt cliffs.  Not another soul was to be seen.

"It's a strange place," she commented, almost absently, as they rounded a bend and lost view of the ship.  "It seems…sad somehow."

Jason turned his head to look at her curiously, but then he fastened his gaze on the towering mountain to their right and explained, "It's a volcanic island.  That's the reason it's uninhabited and the sands are so black."

"Volcanic?" Mimi repeated, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

The pirate laughed.  "That's right.  You wouldn't know, would you?  How can I explain this?  A volcano is a mountain with a hole at the top that spews fire and ash.  This island was formed like that."

Mimi's eyes widened with fear, as she gazed upon the ominous mountain.  "Will it…go off while we're here?"

His arm wrapped around her, giving her a comforting squeeze.  "Not likely.  According to the natives, it hasn't exploded in over a hundred years.  The island is still feared though.  They think evil spirits live here, and that's what causes the mountains to shoot fire."

"I can certainly see why," she muttered.  "It has a bad air around it."

Jason studied her with concern.  "You're not worried, are you?"

She stopped walking and turned to look at him.  "How could I be?" she replied softly.  "You're here with me."  Stepping on her tiptoes, Mimi lifted her face to kiss him gently.  The moment she felt his soft lips pressing against her own, she knew the kiss could not stay a chaste expression of affection.  There lived inside of her a great need for his touch, for his caress.  She brought her body closer to his, her hands reaching under his loose white shirt to feel the sleek muscle beneath.  His arms wrapped around her, and she smiled against his lips.

He pulled away, smiling back.  "Well, this bad air seems to have a good effect on you," he teased.

"You have a good effect on me," Mimi returned seriously, threading her fingers through his short blonde hair, curling the hairs on his neck.  

 "I do, don't I?" Jason shot back, before lowering his mouth to hers again.  

There was no bliss in the world like this, Mimi was absolutely certain.  Standing on a beach, the sound of the crashing waves in her ears, the tickle of sand between her toes, and Jason's lips moving smoothly over hers as though born to do it.  This was heaven.  She could wish for no more than this for the rest of her life.  Even as Jason began to deepen the kiss, her thoughts started turning darker, towards the reality that this wouldn't last the rest of her life…this wouldn't even last beyond today.

She clung to him desperately as worries she had been pushing away for days came crowding back.  Her hands dug into his skull, as she forced her tongue through the barrier of his lips and sought to memorize every last inch of his mouth.  He was hers.  She had to know he was hers.  She had to let him know that she was his.  Jason seemed surprised, but not displeased, by her ferocity, quickly giving as good as he got.  

Even while kissing, Mimi began to drag him down on the sand with her.  She was grateful she had once again worn the dress the native women had given her, grateful there were so few layers of clothing between them, so that she could feel the outline of Jason's body as he settled against her.  His lips left hers to travel down her throat and into her neck, gently nibbling at the sensitive skin as she arched into him.  

Her hands reached once again for his shirt, this time bringing it over his head.  Jason had to abandon his task for a moment to allow the garment to be removed, but no sooner was it gone than he found a new target, moving his ministrations to the valley between her breasts, teasing her by avoiding the places where she wanted most to be touched.  

"Jason," she moaned in protest, before deciding to take matters into her own hands, flipping him onto his back and trailing greedy hands and lips along the muscles of his chest and abdomen.  The groan she received from him brought a wicked smile to her lips.  

She raised her head to look at him.  "You should know better than to play games with me," she threatened.

Something in her words brought Jason back to his senses.  He forced himself to sit up and lift her with him.  "Mimi, we have to stop.  There's something I have to tell you."

Mimi frowned.  "What's the matter?  Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, definitely no."  Mimi was assured by the look of arousal she saw in his eyes and by the lingering kiss he gave her.  "This is good news, actually.  Blackheart told me that Lord Black is going to do everything he can to interfere on our behalf.  He's going to help us, Mimi.  We aren't going to hang."

A grin was not nearly enough to express Mimi's joy.  She threw her arms around his neck and showered him with kisses.  "How could you not have told me before?"

Jason chuckled.  "I was going to, but I got a little…uh, distracted."

Mimi flushed but didn't pull away from him.  Rather, she settled herself, straddling his lap.  "I can be very good at distraction," she murmured, dipping her head to nip at his earlobe.

To his credit, Jason only succumbed to her touch for a moment, before forcing her away.  "No, Mimi.  There's a reason I told you that before things went any farther."  Her confusion was evident on her face.  Jason sighed.  This wasn't going to be easy.  "Mimi, I remember what you told me about…about your mother."

Immediately, a mask of anger descended over the young woman's face.  She pushed out of his arms and to her feet.  "I don't want to talk about her," she gritted out, turning to walk away.

Jason had quicker reflexes and was able to get to his feet and stop her before she'd taken more than a few steps.  "We need to talk about her, Mimi."  

She pulled out of his reach, green eyes sparking defiance up at him.  "Why?  She has nothing to do with us.  I shut her out of my life a long time ago."

"You can't shut your memories away," Jason argued, matching her anger with his own determination.  "Believe me, I know that more than anyone.  That's what I tried to do for years until you made me open up.  Remember?"  She opened her mouth to protest, but he went on, unheeding.  "I'm not going to make you tell me anymore about her, if that's what you're worried about.  I'm talking about what you've already told me.  You told me she started out as just a girl in love with a sailor, remember that?  You told me that you were never going to let yourself be like her."

"So you're saying I am like her?" Mimi shot back, rage coming out of her in palpable waves.  "That's what you think?  I'm a whore just like her."

"No, no, that's not what I think at all," the pirate responded quickly but calmly, taking hold of her arms with soft, firm hands and not allowing her to shake him off.  "Would you please let me finish before you yell at me anymore?"  Her eyes spoke volumes, but she nodded resentfully.  "Thank you.  Now, what I'm trying to say is this.  You're at a vulnerable place right now.  You've been through so much in the past few weeks that you were unprepared for.  This worry that you've had for me is making you not think straight.  When I thought I was going to die, I probably encouraged it."  Memories of the night on the island assaulted them both.  "I wanted to be with you, because I wanted you.  But now, I'm not going to be with you like that, because I love you."

His words were slowly sapping her of her anger, but not her confusion.  "I don't understand," she returned softly.

Jason's hands left her arms to cup her face.  "I know you don't.  I'm trying to explain."  He paused a moment, looking out to sea as he searched for words.  "Your father left your mother, and she was ruined because of it.  If we were together now, and something went wrong, and Lord Black couldn't save us—I said if," he rushed on, seeing her mutinous look.  "_If he couldn't save us, I couldn't bear it if you were left behind to deal with the consequences on your own.  Whereas if he is successful, then you can keep your vow and your purity until you're married."_

Mimi paled at his words.  Her eyes widened, and she wondered for a moment if she was going to faint.  "Are you saying…?"

He smiled as his thumbs caressed her cheeks and his fingers pushed back stray curls the wind kept blowing into her face.  "I'm saying I love you, Miriam Lockhart.  I'm saying if I make it out of this mess alive, there is nothing I want more in this world than to make you my wife.  I want to marry you, if you'll have me."

Tears pooled in the girl's emerald eyes and slipped out unnoticed by her.  She was too busy repeating those words a thousand times in her head.  Jason merely waited in silence, his eyes boring holes into her with the heat of their stare.  "You…you want to marry me," she breathed finally.  It wasn't a question, merely an attempt to make herself believe the impossible.

"I know the life of a pirate's wife must not seem very appealing, but I don't have to stay a pirate, you know.  Blackheart and I own a plantation.  We could settle there, or on the island we visited, or anywhere in the world you wish.  I'll give you the world, _nanichi."_

"_Nanichi_?" she repeated, loving the way the word sounded on his lips.

"My heart," he translated, punctuating the words with a gentle kiss.  "My love."  He kissed her again, and she melted into his arms.  "My beloved."  He kissed her until she could barely breathe from the passion of it.

"Yes," was all she managed when their lips separated, their bodies still entwined.

Jason's eyes lit, but he still remained cool.  "Yes what?"

"Yes, Jason, I'll marry you."

~~*~~

Chloe could hear the songs of the birds singing in the canopy, and she wondered if they were trying to tell her something.  She almost felt like if she listened hard enough, she could understand their lyrics.  Though darker, it was hotter in the jungle than it was on the beach; the trees kept the humidity trapped inside.  She was grateful she had worn the thin, white dress the islanders had given her.  Even so, she was sweltering, and the sweat was causing her chemise—the only undergarment she was wearing—to stick to her skin.  

She looked miserable, walking through the jungle, her dress getting caught on branches, slapping irritably at the bugs which had the impudence to land on her soft skin.  Brady shouldn't have found her so attractive.  Yet the way her bronze skin was glinting, and the telling way her dress was clinging to her curves was affecting him more than he liked to admit.

He chose the wrong moment to smile though.  Chloe was angrily swatting at a mosquito which insisted on trying to bite her arm when she looked up and saw the longing look in his eyes.  She turned towards him angrily.  "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" 

The wise part of Brady's brain told him to answer that question was deadly.  She was already looking furious.  If he lied, she would know it.  To tell the truth was to insure his imminent demise.  Rather than answering, Brady cleared his throat and reached for her hand.  "Come on.  There's something I want to show you."

She watched him curiously but obediently followed him deeper into the bramble.  "You've been here before?"

Brady nodded, pausing to sweep several branches out of her way and earn a smile of gratitude.  He breathed a silent sigh of relief that her former annoyance was disappearing.  "When we were trying to find a place to bring our first rescued slaves to, we stopped here, but they refused to stay because of the volcano.  Something about evil spirits, I think."

"Evil insects, more like," Chloe mumbled, as several buzzing, flying pests decided to congregate around her head.  

"We'll take care of that in a moment," Brady promised, flicking them away for her.  He stopped suddenly, a thought occurring to him.  "I almost forgot to tell you, Chloe.  My father…well, he knows he's my father."

Chloe's eyes widened with shock.  She hardly knew what to say.  "But how…well, who…What happened?"

Brady chuckled.  "You're handling it about as well as I did.  It was a surreal experience, to say the least."  He proceeded to relate the entire conversation to her as they forced their way through the jungle hand in hand.  He thought the air would be squeezed out of him when he told her about Lord John promising to interfere on their behalf, and when he told about that moment before Kevin knocked, he thought he saw tears in her eyes.

"So what will happen now?" she asked, when he finally finished.

"I have no idea what will happen when we get back to the ship," Brady replied carefully, as he began to hear the telling sound of running water.  "But as for now, I think it's time for you to cool off."  No sooner had he finished speaking, than he pushed back one last cluster of green branches, and Chloe caught her breath at the sight before her.

Dark, volcanic rocks ringed an area that was a good ten degrees cooler than the forest surrounding it.  In the center, a deep pit—carved no doubt by the swift passage of lava in ages past—was filled with the most crystal clear water Chloe had ever seen.  She could make out the bottom from where she stood on a rock overlooking the edge.  But more beautiful even than the lake was the waterfall cascading down into it.  It ran along the rocks, at some places a mere trickle, at others a rushing river of water, casting the most majestic rainbow lights over the hideaway.  Soft green plants intermingled, sparsely growing on the rocks smoothed over by centuries of the water's cool touch.

"Oh, Brady, it's beautiful."  Chloe laid a hand to his chest, clutching at the material of his drawstring collar.  "I don't think I've ever seen anything quite this beautiful."

The pirate laughed.  "I didn't bring you here to gawk at it, my lady.  You were complaining of the heat, I believe.  I know you can't swim, but I know a trail down to the water's edge, where you can at least dip your feet."

Chloe raised an eyebrow at his confidence.  It wasn't out of place, she supposed.  She didn't know another English lady who knew how to swim, but she looked forward to proving him wrong.  Without comment, she ran right over the edge and jumped, disrupting the clear water with the splash of her landing.  The cold liquid soaked her skin, as she allowed herself to sink for several feet, before kicking up, losing her sandals as they fell to the bottom.  She grinned as she noticed Brady diving down past her while she floated up.  Probably thought he was going to save her, the idiot.  Her head broke the surface of the water, and she breathed deeply of the crisp air, laughing the moment she was able to.  She waited, treading water, for Brady to emerge a moment later.  

He was not nearly as amused as she was.  "That's not funny, Chloe," he lectured.  He had lost his mask in the dive, and beads of water were dripping off his blonde hair and landing on his soaked shirt.  He hadn't bothered to undress either, before jumping in after her.  "You could have drowned."

"No, you _thought_ I could have drowned," she corrected him.  "I was perfectly safe in my knowledge that I _can_ swim, and you learned a valuable lesson about making assumptions about people."

Brady tried not to let his amusement show at her prima donna attitude.  "You are so going to pay for that one."  He gave no warning before he lunged at her, splashing her with gallons of water.

Chloe let out a shriek and dived out of the way, swimming towards the relative safety of the waterfall, with only the occasional pause to pelt water backwards at him.  She was nearly there, to the rocks which climbed upwards to safety, when she felt his hand grab hold of her foot and pull her backwards.  Laughing, she struggled and got a mouthful of water for her pains.  

Brady didn't stop yanking on her foot until her face was floating on the water under his.  "What do you have to say for yourself now?"

Her reply was a display of childishness she had never expressed in all of her youth.  She spit water up at him.  It was his fault, after all, that she had swallowed some.  "Just that."

Brady groaned, letting go of her to use his hands to scoop clean water on his face.  "That was uncalled for."

"You're right," Chloe admitted, treading water next to him, instead of retreating again.  "In fact, so is this."  She brought her arm down hard upon the water and shot a wave of it over Brady.

"This means war, you know," he returned casually, before splashing her with more than equal force.  

Spewing, she returned fire, and the battle was begun.  Chloe had never known what it was to play before, and her giggles echoed all around them in the sunken lake.  She felt like she could have stayed there forever, living in joyous abandon.  She didn't even notice when she began to shiver.

Brady did, however.  He caught her arms mid-splash.  "All right, m'lady.  I think you're cold enough.  Time to dry off."  

She pouted like a little girl but obediently let him lead her up on the rocks by the waterfall's edge.  She was shivering in earnest now, her fingers and toes blue from cold.  Her waist-length hair seemed to have gained ten pounds of water weight and dripped ceaselessly down her dress and legs and onto the rocks beneath her feet.  If her clothes had clung to her before, they now seemed part of her themselves; every last inch of her was exposed to his view.

Brady turned away, not wanting to gawk at her.  Today had been such a marvelous day, the first worry-free day they had been gifted with in weeks.  He and Chloe had grown closer somehow, in engaging in such a silly activity.  It hardly seemed the time to be looking at her like _that_.  To distract himself, he walked to the rock's edge and stared down at the water, clearing his throat.

"You always do that, you know," she commented, taking him by surprise.

"Always do what?"  He refused to look at her, even as he responded to her comment.  He turned but stared somewhere in the general vicinity of her toes.

"Make that noise, clear your throat.  Whenever things start to get strained between us, that's what you do."  

He had never before realized how transparent he was to her.  She could see right through him.  What a frightening thought.  "No, I just…"  He looked back at the water.  "I realized we forgot my mask and your sandals.  I'll get them."

Chloe grabbed his arm before he could dive back into the water.  She jerked his head up, so he was forced to look straight at her, see the water trailing along her soft cheeks, the black velvety look of her wet hair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath she took.  "Get them later," she ordered, before pressing longing lips to his.  Their lips were still wet from the water, and Chloe soaked up the liquid with her tongue, dancing greedily along the outline of his full mouth. One hand remained positioned at his jaw, while the other wrapped tightly in his hair, pulling him closer to her.

Brady's body was betraying him, urging him to give in to her passion.  He forced himself to pull away, breathing heavily as he brought his hands down firmly on her shoulders.  "Chloe, we can't start this.  Not now, not today."

"Why?" she protested, her eyes sparking defiance.  "Because this time, there's nothing that's going to stop us?"

He was surprised at her understanding.  "Well…yes.  Chloe, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into, where this is leading us."  

"I know enough."  She was undeterred in her passion.  Lady Chloe Wesley had never had trouble identifying what she wanted, and she wanted him.  God, she wanted him.  Looking at him, standing there, his white shirt molding into his body, the rock-hard muscles of his torso well-defined, it was enough to make her knees start to crumble.  "You didn't want anything to happen when you thought you could die.  You aren't going to die, Brady."

"Which is why there's no need to rush this," Brady protested, before she could say anything more damaging to her virtue.

"You're right.  There is no reason on earth—no logical one, at any rate.  But I don't feel very logical right now.  Do you?"

She had no right to ask that question.  No right at all, as she stood there, soaking wet and shivering and beautiful and desirable.  The waterfall was spraying the lightest mist over their bodies, and Chloe was still glistening, as she had been all day.  The things just looking at her did to him were not right.  "Chloe, I—" He stopped short as her hands went to the hem of her dress and began to pull it up.  "Chloe, what are you doing?"

The dress was thrown to the ground, and she stood before him in only a very thin, very revealing chemise.  "Touch me, Brady," she pleaded, moving her body closer to his.  "Touch me the way you did that night on the ship."

If there was a man alive who could resist that goddess any longer, Brady didn't want to know him.  He had tried.  For a whole month of torturous hell, he had tried to stay in control, tried to stay away from her.  Control was no longer an option.  His lips took hers with devouring hunger, as his hand traveled down her arm and then up the side of her body, finally gently caressing the outline of her breast.

Chloe moaned against his lips, pressing herself even closer to him.  Brady's other hand buried itself in her hair, pulling her head back to allow himself better access to her mouth.  He plunged his tongue inside, each long, sultry stroke an initiation of what was to come.  The hand at her breast began to take greater liberties, cupping, engulfing, teasing, as she arched against him.

The lady was not an idle participant any longer.  Her hands found the bottom of his shirt and managed to slide her hands beneath, until she felt the warm, living flesh of his back against her fingertips, while the cold, wet material of his shirt clung to the back of her hands.  She molded her body to his and was shocked to feel the hardness against her thigh.  It sent shivers of warmth straight to the center of her.

His shirt was quickly discarded, and still he continued his dual assault against her mouth and breasts.  Soon, she found he knew how to make other places on her body feel just as magical.  He abandoned her kiss bruised lips to play with her earlobe, nuzzling the sensitive flesh.  She never imagined such a simple thing could feel like such heaven; her hands curled into his shoulders as her eyes closed.  

Pleased with the reaction, Brady retreated for only a moment, long enough for her to see his grin, before the exploration continued along her jaw, her throat, her neck.  He found her weak spot and gently grazed his teeth along it, causing her to shiver from something other than cold.  Trailing a line of kisses along her clavicle, he slowly made his way back to that wonderful curve where neck met shoulder and pulled the skin into his mouth.  Her knees collapsed, but his arms had taken the precaution of wrapping around her waist.  "Sensitive, m'lady?" he teased, abandoning his task to look into her eyes.

Sapphire eyes narrowed at his arrogant satisfaction.  "No more so than you, I'm sure, Captain."  With that, she began a similar investigation of his body, starting with the corners and hidden recesses of his mouth, chewing thoughtfully on his ear, fluttering kisses along his jawline, seeking out the curves of his shoulder and neck, and finally upping the stakes of the game by taking her mouth lower and hesitantly working the darkened skin of his nipples into arousal.  It was then she received the moan she had been looking for.

He pulled her up so suddenly she was unprepared, crushing her lips with bruising force against his, while his fingers worked free the buttons on her remaining garment, until it fell into a heap at her feet.  She stepped away and kicked it out of reach, his mouth still conquering hers relentlessly.  It was only when he pulled away and looked at her with unconcealed admiration in his eyes that Chloe felt a moment's hesitation.  Before embarrassment was allowed to claim her fully, his mouth had descended onto her breast, and she felt her whole body turn into liquid jelly.  Every nerve settled on the spot where their bodies were connected.  Even the hand settled upon her other breast failed to work this kind of magic, this sweet surrender of her utterly to his power.  If she had wondered how far she was really willing to take this, indecision fled with this forbidden pleasure.

She wasn't even thinking as her hands reached out for the small trail of hair at the base of his abdomen, lower, onto the clasp of his breeches.  He pulled her away, kissing her hand, as he looked again into her eyes.  "Not yet, my love," he murmured, his eyes promising that the time would soon come.  His lips brushed hers again, strangely gentle, before he knelt before her.  "Do you trust me, Chloe?"

Chloe nodded earnestly, not even bothering to ask what would happen next.  It didn't matter.  As long as he was here with her, making her feel this fire burning her up from the inside out, nothing could bother her.  At her permission, he kissed her belly, the soft, smooth skin of her abdomen.  Then, his hands gently parted her legs, lifting one over his shoulder, as his fingers sought her out.  Her eyes widened and a blush rose to her cheeks as she felt them rub against her, but then the surging, hot wetness found her, and it was all she could do to keep standing as he parted her folds and entered her.  

Without realizing it, her hips began to move along with the rhythm his fingers set for her.  He introduced her gently to the feel of skin on skin, and her quickened breathing and undulating abdomen were proof of her growing need.  Something was building inside of her.  She could feel it, her belly tightening, desire nearly choking her.  "Now, Brady," she said, with a knowledge born of instinct.  "I'm ready now."

He abandoned his position and stood, looking deeply into her eyes.  "You're sure?"  For the final time, she nodded her permission, and then, his breeches were gone and she was looking upon the first naked man she had ever seen.  She had no time to feel embarrassment as he settled his body against her, his hands urging her legs up to wrap around his waist.  She felt the smooth obsidian rock at her back and Brady's hardness in front of her, and then his lips settled over hers, while he began to enter her.  His lips were gentle, all giving, as though he could in some way take the pain away from her with his kiss.  

But nothing could take away that pain, that burning, wretched, tearing pain deep inside of her.  Chloe felt as though she would be split in half, it was such a ripping force.  She forced her lips away from his to let out a cry of strangled pain and wondered why she had been so insistent for something that hurt so much.  Brady didn't move within her, only watched her through sympathetic eyes.  "Are you all right?"

_No!_ she wanted to scream.  _No!  I'm not all right.  I'll never be all right again.  But seeing the look in his eyes, the clear love in his crystal orbs of blue, she withheld the answer that sprung so easily to her lips.  She said nothing at all for a moment, waiting for the pain to ease somewhat, and then she nodded, wrapping her arms more tightly around him, putting her face to his ear.  "Yes, yes, Brady.  I'm ready."_

He began to move then, slowly at first, allowing her to fall back into the rhythm he had taught her.  The spray of the waterfall fell over them, bathing their bodies in refreshing coolness, and sweat mingled with it.  And then, for Chloe, it was all random images, thoughts that had no bearing on reality.  Cool stone against her back.  Brady inside her, moving, always moving.  Her hips pushing against his, as that desperate tightness began to build again.  The feel of his hair between her fingers, the sound of his breath in her ear, the occasional feel of his lips against hers, the rush of the waterfall, the blood swimming inside of her, pumping hot and fast until she thought she would burst.  She was no longer shivering.  She was shaking, shaking uncontrollably, and all she could do was cling to Brady and hope he could hold her, while the blood rushed through and she shook.

She was panting, and she couldn't breathe, and she was breathing too fast and too hard, and Brady's breathing was echoing off of hers, and the world was whirling, and the colors all blended together, and she couldn't see, and the blood was behind her eyes now, turning everything red, and the tightened knot inside of her burst, and she was still shaking and shaking, even as she felt the warmth enter her and other warmth leave her, and she never heard her own scream, though Brady did, and he held her while she shook.

~~*~~

_He saw the roses, but he didn't believe his eyes, so he leaned forward to smell them.  They were real.  He could smell the roses.  A grin lit his face as he trod the well-known path.  He hadn't walked in the rose garden since there was a different Lady Black, a Lady Black who loved the roses and walked with her fingers trailing in them and never cared if she pricked her finger.  His pace quickened as he turned a corner.  She had to be here somewhere.  He wouldn't have come if she wasn't.  "IzzyB?  Izzy?  Where are you?"_

_Her sweet, soft laughter reassured him.  "I'm right here, John."_

_He whirled around, and true to her word, there she was, swinging gently under the old oak tree on the wooden swing he had built for her the year she came to live at the Black estate.  "Where have you been?" he demanded, as he skimmed over the last few yards separating them._

_"I've been watching you," she said, and he was amazed by how light and free she was as she sat there swinging away.  She was dressed not in white, but in her favorite sky-blue dress.  He could remember every time she wore it, but it had never seemed quite as light as this.  She looked as though she hadn't aged a day since the last time he had seen her and held her and kissed her.  The same deep love still pooled out of her eyes, until he was saturated by it.  "I've been watching our son too."_

_"I found him, IzzyB," John responded, with something akin to pride, as he settled himself in the grass by her feet the way he used to do.  "It took me twenty years, but I found Brady."_

_She nodded and smiled.  "Yes, I know.  I helped you find each other.  I always knew you would."_

_John frowned, as reality struck him.  "But, Isabella, he said you were dead.  He told me about how you died, though he didn't tell me it was you."_

_"Alive and dead are relative terms, my love," she responded, with that same knowing smile.  "As long as you still remember me, I'll still be here, in your dreams."  She sank off the swing and pressed her hands to his chest.  "Here, in your heart."_

_He grabbed her hands and kissed them, feeling the smooth softness of her skin.  "I love you.  I've always loved you."_

_"I know," was all the reply necessary.  She leaned back and lay with him, her body pressed against his, the smell of roses all around him.  He gazed down at their intertwined fingers, marveling at how perfectly they still fit together.  This was peace and contentment like he hadn't known in years.  _

_She sat up so suddenly he was startled.  Her eyes turned to him, bright and panicked.  "You have to wake up now, John."_

_"What?  Why?" he demanded, trying to pull her back towards him and recapture the lost moment of serenity._

_"Someone's after you.  You have to wake up and fight them."  _

_He was confused by her knowledge of such a thing.  "No one's after me.  Don't turn this dream into a nightmare.  I want to stay here…with you."_

_Isabella's face softened momentarily.  "You can stay with me, John.  You have a choice before you.  You can stay asleep, and this dream becomes reality.  Or you can wake up, learn to know your son, watch your children grow up."_

_He hesitated for a moment, torn between the woman he'd been longing for, for twenty years, and the children he loved and desired to protect.  "What will happen to them if I stay here?"_

_She shook her head.  "It doesn't work like that, my love.  You must choose for yourself.  If you want to see what happens to them, you have to live through it."_

_In the small conscious part of his mind, he could hear footsteps drawing nearer, hear heavy breathing over him.  He had to make his decision now, or it would be too late.  Isabella's hand began to slip from his grasp, and he knew.  He couldn't lose her again.  He pulled her to him and covered her lips with his own.  "I choose you."_

The assassin hesitated over the sleeping figure as he murmured three words: "I choose you."

Laughter bubbled out from the cold lips.  "I'm afraid it no longer matters what you choose, Your Lordship," was the cruel response, before the viscount's own sword was plunged repeatedly into his heart. 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Sixteen**

Lady Chloe Wesley felt as though she never wanted to face another human being again as long as she lived.  They would make her feel guilty for what she had done, and at the moment, she felt anything but guilty.  She felt…exhilarated, stunned, _alive.  And sore.  Very sore.  But she could ignore pain, given that she could not wipe that strange smile off her face.  She felt like singing or running through the rain or—actually, lying in Brady's arms was a perfect feeling.  _

They were dressed now, still lingering by the side of the waterfall, and he was trailing his fingers along her arm.  It was the lightest of touches, but she felt it all the way to her bones.  All she seemed to be doing now was _feeling.  Feeling pain and contentment and a million emotions she couldn't even begin to describe.  Everything seemed so much more real now.  Colors seemed brighter.  The rushing of the waterfall seemed more melodic.  His touch was reaching through her skin.  Chloe definitely did not want to leave this place._

As if to spoil her unvoiced wish, Brady spoke for what seemed the first time in hours.  "Jason and Mimi will be wondering where we are."

"Let them wonder," Chloe returned petulantly, turning to wrap her arms around his waist and snuggle closer.

"They might come looking for us," he hinted in return, though he was planting soft kisses on her brow.

"I'd like to see how they make it through that jungle.  Those insects nearly ate me alive.  I'm in no hurry to go back again."  She sounded like the pampered, spoiled little girl he had once accused her of being, but she didn't care.  This moment was precious to them.  Returning to the beach meant returning to reality, and she was enjoying this fantasy.

"All right.  So we'll just stay here until we die, then?" he asked.  Chloe could hear the laughter in his voice.

She lifted her face to smile beguilingly at him.  "Would that really be so terrible?"

Brady groaned then leaned down to give her a lingering kiss.  He pulled back, her smile now plastered across his face as well.  "Living in paradise with a goddess by my side?  Oh, I think I could get used to it."

"Good.  Then it's settled," Chloe murmured, settling back against his chest.  

They lay there for a moment longer, drinking in the stillness and peace of the place, before Brady continued, "Of course, there is the little matter of the Royal Navy, but never mind; let them shoot me here, better than hanging somewhere else."

His words had the desired effect.  Chloe shot out of his arms, glaring down at him.  "Don't even joke about things like that!  You're not going to die.  You told me yourself, your father is going to intercede for you."

"Well, he can hardly do that if I'm here, can he?" Brady pointed out.

Chloe scowled down at him.  "Oh you and your…logic."  She sighed, finally giving the point up as a lost one.  "Fine.  Have it your way.  Let's go."

Brady laughed, pulling her back down and giving her a kiss that wiped her mind of all vexed thoughts and struggling simply to remember her name.  "Believe me, Chloe, if I had it my way, we would never be leaving here, but we have to face the world sometime."

Chloe grimaced, trying to imagine Mimi's reaction when she emerged in her damp and rumpled dress.  It would not be pretty. 

~~*~~

Mimi listened to the pounding of the waves against the shore and smiled.  She was wrapped between Jason's legs, her head against his chest, and the sound of the waves mixed with the beating of his heart to create a soothing rhythm.  So this was what it felt like to be completely happy.  She had never had this sweet security before.  She was going to marry the man she loved.  It was more than she had ever dared to dream.

"What are you thinking about?" Jason breathed against her ear, his arms pulling her tighter.

She smiled and turned to give him a light peck on the lips.  "You.  What else?"

Jason chuckled, the throaty sound tickling the back of her neck.  "I'm flattered."

"You should be.  It's not often I can stop worrying about Belle and Chloe long enough to think of anyone else," Mimi drawled.  "But somehow, you always manage to send them straight out of my head."

"Good," the pirate returned, a note of steel in his voice.  "There should be more to your life than worrying about a couple of spoiled—"

Mimi yanked herself out of his arms; her eyes were green fire as she glared at him.  "I'm going to warn you of this one time only, Jase.  You do not speak a word against those girls.  You have no idea what they mean to me."

Jason could see clearly he had overstepped his bounds.  He gazed at her with new eyes.  "I wonder at your vehemence in defending them, is all, Mimi.  You are Lady Black's maid.  That hardly makes her your responsibility, and Lady Wesley is nothing to you."

Her manner became suddenly, frighteningly frigid.  "I am so much more than just the maid to them, and they are everything to me.  You don't understand…you can't understand what we've all been to each other."

"Then explain it to me," he soothed, as he placed gentle hands on her shoulders.

Mimi sighed, trying to figure out how to put their strange bond into words.  "I've told you a bit about what my life was like with my mother, but that is nothing compared to the day to day living with it.  The shame was horrific, but worse than that, it was like…like she didn't care about me.  She looked at me, and I was always a reminder of how she had come to that in the first place."  She kept her eyes averted as she poured out a little bit more of the hurt to Jason.  Her eyes would reveal every last drop of it, and she wasn't ready even now to be that open.

"Anyway," she continued rapidly, before he could comment, "when I came to serve Belle, it was like entering an entirely different world.  Everything there was so splendid, so different from the squalor in which I had lived.  I was awed by everything and everyone there.  The Blacks were kind to me.  I was an inferior, in their service, but they educated me alongside their own daughter.  For a long time, I was more Belle's playmate than anything else."

Jason nodded his comprehension.  "So you learned to take care of her.  I understand now.  I'm sorry for what I said."

Mimi's mouth turned up in a half-smile.  "I forgive you, but you still don't understand.  You see, I discovered something in all my years in that house.  I am not the only person in the world with problems, and money can only shield you from so much."

"What do you mean?" Jason asked, his brow creasing with concern.

"Do you really think I'm the kind of person who would become overly-protective of spoiled little rich girls?  I love Lady Isabelle and Lady Chloe because they have been through just as much in their own, different ways.  Maybe mine was the more outwardly traumatic of our childhoods, but they had things to deal with too.  They never talk about it, but the scars are still there.  For instance, Belle's parents hate each other.  They've never made any attempt to disguise their mutual loathing of the other's society.  Imagine what that must have been like for their daughter.  You understand.  Your parents' marriage was not pleasant either.  All her life, Belle has felt unloved and unwanted.  She's seen her life as a burden.  Why do you think she goes out of her way to be kind to others?  She is searching for the love and approval she spent her whole childhood lacking."

Jason raised his arms in surrender, silencing her.  "I apologize, Mimi.  I wasn't thinking when I spoke.  I've seen firsthand the love and care your mistress showed the _Ara'guacu__' aboard ship.  She does have my respect.  When I said what I did, I was thinking instead of the times I've seen Lord Black be harsh with you.  I never want you to be talked down to like that again."_

Mimi laughed, her bad mood dissipating as she recalled the occasions Jason mentioned.  "Oh, is that all?  Lord Black was only severe with me because he doesn't like _you_."

The pirate's frown deepened at the circumstance his new betrothed seemed to find so amusing.  "That should make things difficult when it comes time for me to ask for your hand."

Mimi felt a little shiver run down her spine at Jason's words.  He intended to ask for her, as if she were a real lady.  "Well, you have plenty of time to start earning his favor.  Look how well you've succeeded with me."

"That was different," Jason teased, his arms circling round her waist and drawing her closer.  "You never disliked me."

"Oh really?"  Mimi arched an eyebrow.  "What makes you so confident?"

"The first day I met you I offered to feed Jan to the sharks."

Mimi couldn't withhold her laughter.  She remembered clearly the first conversation she had been witness to between her fiancé and her nemesis.  Obviously, she had not been as adept as she thought at hiding her mirth from him even then.  "All right.  I confess.  You won me over from the beginning.  Now, return the favor, and acknowledge you were fascinated by me as well."

"Never, 'til it is proved against me."  Jason's stalwart denial was shown meaningless by the mischievous glint in his eyes.  "What evidence have you to support your claim?"

"You carried me off the _Dolphin _yourself."  Mimi let her statement fall with a triumphant smile.

"Mere gallantry, I assure you, Mistress.  I would have done the same for any young lady."

"But you didn't," Mimi returned quietly, her fingers kneading their way into the locks at the nape of his neck.  "You chose me."  All her love and gratitude towards him came out in those few words.  Out of all the women in the world, he had chosen poor, insignificant Mimi Lockhart to love.

Jason's hands swiftly encircled her face, framing it perfectly.  "And you chose me," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her willing lips.

"Uh-hmm."  A throat being cleared in the near vicinity made them start apart.  Mimi looked up to encounter Captain Blackheart staring down bemusedly at the entwined couple, while Lady Black lingered behind, clearly torn between embarrassment and curiosity.

"So sorry to disturb you," the captain continued, in a voice that clearly showed he was anything but apologetic.

Jason got to his feet, dusting off his breeches and helping Mimi to rise.  She looked down ruefully at her sandy, wrinkled dress.  Only a glance at Chloe's own sodden one removed some of her mortification.  

"Not at all, Captain," Jason returned, and Mimi was astonished by his smooth, cool air.  "I take it you have been as…er...agreeably engaged."  He looked the other pair up and down mockingly.

Blackheart merely returned his friend's grin, while the two women looked anywhere but at each other.  "Pity to go back, isn't it?"

"A great pity."  

Much to Mimi's surprise, she felt Jason's arm snake around her waist as he spoke.  Her cheeks flushed, and she could look nowhere but at the gritty sand of the beach.  Her face thus averted, no one could see her smile.

~~*~~

Brady was smiling—no, positively grinning—as he made his way below decks half an hour later.  For the first time in what seemed like years, he had not a single weight upon his shoulders.  _Life _stretched before him in all its brilliant, wondrous possibilities.  He had deposited the woman of his dreams safely back in her cabin with his charming baby sister and was currently progressing the well-trod track down to converse with the father who he had been reunited with after twenty years.  Life was surprisingly good.

"I'm going to marry Mimi."

Brady jumped, as much shocked by hearing another voice as he was by the announcement made with it.  He had truly forgotten his first mate walked by his side.  He stopped and turned to face the rightfully abashed Masters.  "You're what?" he managed, open-mouthed.

"You heard me," Jason returned evenly.

Brady tried to think of the words appropriate to such a declaration but found he didn't have them.  Marriage, settling down, raising a family—they just weren't the kinds of things people did in their line of work.  

"Look, I'm not asking for your approval," Jase continued, evidently taking Brady's silence for displeasure, "but you're the closest thing to family I've got, so I thought you ought to know.  When all this is over, Mimi and I are getting married."

Brady stood silent for a moment longer, allowing the full weight of the event to settle in on him.  Slowly, that irrepressible grin stole across his face again.  Was there any better proof that life was finally going right for them than this?  "That's wonderful news, mate.  I'm happy for you."  And he held out a hand for his friend to shake.

Jason hesitated a moment, trying to read the sincerity in his captain's expression.  Apparently satisfied, he clasped hands with the man who was like a brother to him.  "Thank you.  Just thought you ought to know."

"Glad you told me," Brady grunted.  With typical masculine brevity, the subject was closed.  

The captain could not be distracted long by Jason's news.  While he was pleased for his friend, his own concerns were much more pressing.  He was filled with a longing to see his father, to talk face to face for the first time with his acknowledged sire.  Unintentionally, he quickened his pace towards the makeshift brig.  It wasn't until he stood before the thick, wooden door that a feeling of foreboding overcame him.

Brady pushed it aside as mere nerves; it was only right he be anxious about this long-awaited event.  He knocked three times, waited, then knocked again, in the appointed code for admittance.  There was no response, not even the shuffling of feet as Kevin moved to answer the door.  Brady's disquiet increased, and he cast a questioning glance at his companion.  Jason shrugged, as though unconcerned, but Brady saw his hand come to rest on his sword hilt.  

Knocking once more and still hearing nothing, Brady pulled his own sword and inched towards the doorway.  He jerked his head, giving a wordless order for Jason to follow him silently.  The pirate prodded the door open.  It creaked on its hinges, but no flash of steel greeted him as he entered the small cabin.  At first glance, the room seemed empty.  Kevin wasn't snoring in his usual seat; Lord Black wasn't impatiently pacing the confines of his cell.

But it took mere seconds for Brady's eyes to land on the prone figure on the solitary cot.  "No," he choked, even while the grisly dark red liquid soaking the blankets and dripping onto the wooden planks beneath proved he had come too late.  He stood frozen, for once in his life incapable of action.  He barely noticed as Jason passed him to kneel beside the gruesome site.  

Jason put two fingers to Lord Black's neck and pulled them hastily away.  They were covered in blood.  He rose again, facing his stricken friend.  "He's dead, Brady."  Only a softening of the emerald eyes showed his pity; his voice was cool and steady.

A spasm of grief struck Brady, causing him to falter, but in its wake came a dizzying numbness and an overpowering fury.  His father was dead.  Someone had murdered him on board his own ship.  His hand tightened on his sword.  "They'll pay for this," he spat.  At the moment, he had no clue who "they" were, but he didn't care.  The whole world would reap vengeance for this dastardly act.

"Yes."  Jason's reply was not an answering cry but a cold statement of fact.  He had always been the more level-headed one.  It would be impossible to decide which man was more dangerous.  "I'll start questioning the crew and looking for Kev.  You had better inform Lady Black of this."

Brady recoiled in horror.  For a moment, he had forgotten about his sister.  What would she feel when he told her of this?  How would she react?  He had promised to protect them all, and he had failed.  Even in this, the one good deed of his life, he had failed.  Bile rose up in his throat and threatened to choke him.  He forced it back down.  Now was no time to be weak.  They had a mission to accomplish.

~~*~~

Belle felt very heavy.  Her brain was muddled, and she felt incapable of moving a muscle.  It wasn't upsetting though.  She was relaxed and lost in a world of oblivion.  At least she had been, until she heard distantly, as through water, the sounds of a door opening and closing and voices calling out to her.  Putting all her strength into listening, she recognized the voices of Chloe and Mimi.  That matter settled, she tried to piece together why they were here, and where "here" was, and if she should bother waking, or if this was merely another dimension of her sleeping state.  

"Belle?  How long has she been sleeping?" she heard Chloe demand.

A third voice, muffled and indistinct, answered, and it took another moment for Belle to place it as that new maid of Chloe's, what's-her-name.

_Jan_, she realized, pieces starting to come together as she slowly awakened.  They were on a boat, a pirate ship, and she and Jan had stayed behind while Chloe and Mimi went to shore with the pirates.  Yes, she remembered now.  Only the day had passed awfully quickly.  She must have slept through most of it.  

It seemed to take much more effort than usual, but Belle forced her leaden eyelids open and looked blurrily at the worried faces staring down at her.  Mimi was hovering on one side.  Upon seeing her mistress's eyes open, she smiled and placed a hand to feel Belle's forehead.  Belle smiled back, soothed by the cool, tender touch of her maid.  

Chloe hung over the footboard, her blue eyes wide, worried, and fretful.  "Belle, are you all right?  You're not feeling ill again, are you?"

Belle was prepared to answer in the negative, but when she opened her mouth, a giant, unladylike yawn escaped her lips.  She was momentarily horrified at her breach of decorum, but when her friends laughed, she couldn't help smiling sheepishly back at them.  Feeling more alert by the second, she struggled to rise to a sitting position, stretching as she did so.  "I'm fine," she assured them.  "I guess I was more tired than I thought, though."

Mimi and Chloe both seemed to relax after that.  They pulled away slightly.  Belle looked up at them, ready to ask all about their day, but stopped with her mouth still hanging open.  "What on earth happened to you?" she exclaimed, surveying their frightful appearances.

The lady and the maid turned distressed eyes on each other now, as though to gather something of their own state from the other.  They were both wearing those disgraceful garments the native women had given them, and the dresses looked even more unsuitable now.  Mimi's was rumpled and covered in gritty, dark sand.  Her feet were almost black with the same stuff.  Chloe, meanwhile, looked as though she had half-drowned from the wet hair hanging loose down her back and the white dress that clung immodestly to her body.

"I went swimming," Chloe rushed to explain. 

At the same moment, Mimi burst out, "I was walking on the beach."

Both their agitated way of speaking and the heightened color of their cheeks gave Belle reason to suspect they were not being completely honest with her, and only the obvious eavesdropping of Jan in the corner stopped her from pressing them for more information.  Then again, considering what she had inadvertently seen on the island, she was not entirely sure she wanted to know any more about Chloe and Mimi's proceedings when out of her presence.

They were all spared the trouble of finding another topic of discussion by a pounding on the door.  Mimi rushed, with unnecessary alacrity, to open it, and Belle had more than a passing suspicion she was eager to be spared any further questioning on the events of her day.  But Belle had no more time to spend on observing her friends, for at that moment Captain Blackheart entered the already crowded room and marched straight to her bedside.

Belle looked up at his imposing figure in some alarm.  While she had grown to have a certain respect for him, and even some gratitude for his nursing her when sick, it would never be within her power to study the black-swathed pirate without some degree of fear.  On this particular occasion, that sensation was heightened by her recognition of his own anxiety in the controlled movements and in the lack of civility with which he had forced himself upon their notice.

All she could manage of the greeting she had planned was a questioning, "Captain, what…?"

Belle saw him start, as if unprepared for her intuition.  Without knowing anything more than she had ten minutes ago, she felt terror seize her heart.  It took all her fortitude to bring the words to her lips.  "My father.  Captain, where's my father?"

Blackheart's shoulders slumped.  He could not meet her gaze.  "I'm sorry, m'lady," he replied in an almost inaudible voice.

She knew.  He didn't need to say more.  Belle knew.  Her hand rose to clutch at her chest, and her already fair complexion took on a ghostlike pallor.  "No.  No."  

Dimly, Belle recognized that Mimi had taken her other hand and was squeezing it sympathetically.  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Chloe looking from her to the captain and back again as if unsure who was most in need of her comfort.  But she was aware of none of it.  Her mind had frozen on the one thought of her father…her father…

"NO!"  She screamed the word this time, causing the whole room to watch her with anxiety.  "No!  No, you're wrong.  You're wrong."  

And before anyone could collect their senses enough to stop her, Belle flung herself out of the bed and out of the cabin.  She raced down the ship's narrow passageways, calling out for her father at the top of her lungs.  "Papa!  Papa!  Come here!  It's Belle. I need you.  Papa!"  She climbed down ladders, stumbling, tearing her petticoat.  She had not even taken time to dress properly; she didn't care.

"Papa!  Papa!"  Belle finally lurched onto the brig door, panting for breath.  She could hear the others only a few steps behind her.

"Belle!  Belle, don't go in there!" 

Ignoring the captain's warnings, Belle used what remained of her manic strength to force open the door.  She looked around the room without seeing it, trying to convince herself she would find her father alive and well and waiting for her with open arms.  In such a state of self-delusion, it was not the sight in front of her that brought her back to reality.  It was what she felt beneath her feet.

The sticky, miserable sensation caused her to look down.  Her small, bare feet were surrounded by pools of red liquid, white blurs against a scarlet background.  Horror nearly choked her, but Belle slowly lifted her eyes to stare, seeing this time, the gore-drenched cot.  The still, unmoving, distorted, mutilated being which hours ago had been her loving father.

Hysteria, pursuing her all this while, finally captured her.  "PAPA!" she howled, tearing at her hair.  Unreasoning sobs came pouring out of her; not of grief—it was too soon for that—but of terror, anger, and disbelief.  Choking, screaming, weeping, Lady Black collapsed insensible on the blood-splattered floor.

~~*~~

A tense silence pervaded the deck of the _Vengeance _while First Mate Jason Masters stalked back and forth across every well-known plank.  He felt for the first time as though he knew nothing of men, of human natured, of anything really.  They had all been dealt a blow today, and he knew not what to make of it.  His first mission had of course been to discover who among the crew might have committed such an offense.  How could it be that a murderer lurked in their midst, unnoticed all this time?

Jason had appealed to Hawk, to Ty, to all the crew.  But there was a general alibi, something he never would have guessed but encompassing every sailor aboard ship.  Unless there was a grand conspiracy to murder Lord Black, which he knew there was not, it only left one possibility.  Only one man was missing.  Only one unaccounted for.

"Kevin Lambert," Jase muttered, not for the first time, while his eyes narrowed with murderous rage.  He never would have believed it.  He _didn't _believe it.  He had known Kevin for three years, had fought side by side with him, knew all his past wrongs at the hands of Spain.  If Brady was his best friend, he would have still called Kevin his truest.

Kevin Lambert had been a cabin boy on a Dutch merchant vessel, when it was attacked during the war between the Protestant Netherlands and Catholic Spain.  At only thirteen, he had watched as the entire crew was forced to kiss a crucifix or be handed over to the Inquisitors.  Only Kevin had yielded.  He had spent the rest of his life trying to make up for his weakness.  He had found brother warriors in Brady and Jason, found a similar burning hatred against Spain.  Together, the three had cut a swath of murder and revenge straight through the heart of the Main.  

So what could possibly have made him turn traitor now?  Jason had been musing over this question for half an hour without any clear answer.  Again and again, he tried to work out a motive, a plan of action, and repeatedly, he discarded them.  Nothing seemed right.

"Masters?" 

Jason whirled around at the reluctant greeting to see Hawk standing before him, looking as though he feared to be the recipient of the other man's wrath.  "What is it?" he snarled.

"The ship's been searched from top to bottom.  No sign of Kev, but one of the dinghies is missing."

A string of the foulest words he knew forced their way through Jason's clenched teeth.  Hawk bore it all in silence, though his eyes showed him searching for more than one escape route should the pirate's anger turn violent.  But Jason, though prone to fits of anger, almost always kept a stern guard on his temper.  He saved his rage for those deserving of it.  He finally stopped swearing long enough to growl at Hawk, "Get lost."

Hawk had no trouble obliging him, and Jason was left to his perplexed thoughts.  The crew knew to avoid him at all costs when he was in a dark mood like this.  Besides, they had their own duties to attend to.  In addition to everything else, there was a body to be prepared and a room to clean.  Jason was not a person to forget about the little matters, even while larger issues pressed in on him.  He knew Brady would be unequal to ordering his father's body set out to sea, and in the sweltering Caribbean, a corpse could not be left to rot even a day.  This was a reality, and Jason did best with realities.

"Jase…"

That whimper of his name was all the warning Jason had before he felt soft arms being wrapped around his neck and a warm body pressed to his.  He instinctively hugged her back, uncaring—for the moment—if a stray crew member or two saw.  "Are you okay?" he asked in Mimi's ear as she buried her face in his neck.

He felt her shake her head against him and soon afterwards felt the hot, stinging sensation of tears falling from her eyes to his skin.  He buried his hand in her hair and tried to soothe her as she cried.  He knew nothing he said could help with the pain she was feeling now.  Jason had known too much loss in his life to be foolish enough to offer platitudes.  He simply held her and let her cry.  It would do her more good than anything else.

Some time later, as he felt her sobs begin to ebb, Jason guided her away towards the rail, keeping his arm firmly planted round her waist.  She rested her head against his shoulder.  "Look at that," he instructed, pointing to the horizon.

Bright hues of red and gold flashed across the sky in all their brilliance as the sun descended beyond their vision.  It was only a few moments, only a brief image of glory, and it was gone.  But that was the point.  As if to complete the unspoken metaphor, the splash of Lord Black's wrapped body being thrown to the sea was heard.  Jason watched it sink slowly into the ocean depths.  He also noticed that Hawk and Ty had taken off their hats and held them to their chests as a sign of respect.  He would have smiled, if he hadn't heard Mimi sigh.  He squeezed her gently, pulling her closer.  

"Thank you," she whispered softly, a moment later.  Her green eyes still sought the distant sky, watching the stars begin to shimmer dimly through the blue.

Jason couldn't think of a suitable response to that.  "You're welcome" seemed too trivial.  He could ask how she was feeling, but he knew that without asking.  He merely let the silence take them.

But it was inevitable that words would find their way back to Mimi.  After a few minutes of restful quiet, she began, "Do you know who did it?"

The pirate stiffened.  In his heart, he still couldn't accept the truth.  "Possibly…yes…I don't know."

Mimi turned towards him then, seeming to read the struggle in his face.  "Who?"

"Kevin Lambert is missing.  So is a dinghy."  That was all the answer he could give.  He could not accuse his friend of murder.  Not yet.  

Mimi appeared to realize that too.  At least, she didn't press him for more answers.  "Belle's not taking it well," she continued, swiftly changing subjects.  "Of course, who would?  Poor thing.  I don't know if you heard, but she went to see…him."  Her speech faltered for a moment, and she stood, fighting for control, before continuing.  This was what he loved about his Mimi.  She was so strong, so much stronger than she knew.

"I heard," Jason replied, giving her time to collect herself.  "Is she any better now?"

"Well, she was when I left, but I don't know about now.  She fainted, you know, and the captain carried her back to her cabin.  I stayed with her until she revived and calmed her when she was on the verge of hysterics again, but as soon as she was calm, Chloe ordered me from the room."  Mimi let out a sigh of displeasure.  "I don't know why she wouldn't let me stay.  If anyone should be with Belle right now, it's me.  But instead, she's down there with Chloe and Captain Blackheart, who I'm sure is the last person in the world she wants to see."

Jason deemed it better not to reply.  It was obvious Mimi knew nothing of Brady's true identity, and he had no right to make his friend's secret known.  If Chloe knew, however, it would explain her eagerness to be alone with the siblings.  "Wasn't it just this afternoon you were defending Lady Wesley to me?" he teased gently.  "You should give her the benefit of the doubt.

Mimi cast a searching look up at him, then shrugged.  Whatever secret he was keeping, she didn't have the strength to go rooting for it tonight.  "If you say so."

"Come here," Jason instructed, holding out his arms to enfold her again.  She made no resistance, snuggling as close to him as she could get, laying her head on his heart.  He wrapped his arms tightly around her, his hands working little relaxing circles on her back.  He wanted to protect her.  She had been through so much, and now, she had to deal with the death of a man she had looked up to as a father.   

Mimi stiffened in his arms, suddenly flying back, her eyes wide.  "Jason, Lord Black is dead."

Jason frowned.  He hadn't thought Mimi was in denial on that point.  Her grief had seemed so natural.  "Yes, Mimi," he said soothingly.  "I'm sorry."

"No, no, no," she returned, wringing her hands in fretful agitation.  "He's dead.  He's dead, and he was the one who was going to save you.  He was going to talk to Commodore Brady, and…he's dead."  She stilled suddenly, looking up at him in both fear and search of confirmation.

Jason felt his throat constrict.  He had realized that the moment he had seen Lord Black's body, but he had forced it to the back of his mind.  There were other things to consider more pressing than his own well-being.  But he had hoped that Mimi would not remember it until much later.  He had hoped she might be spared at least this one grief until it was actually upon her.  "Yes," was all the answer he could manage.

"No!"  Mimi reached out to him, burying her head in his arms, clinging to his neck as though she never meant to let go.  "They can't take you from me," she continued.  Her words were muffled from how close her face was to his skin.  "I won't let you go."

Jason chuckled, though he felt her pain.  It cut him more deeply than his own could ever do.  "I'm sure the British Royal Navy won't have any problems taking orders from you, Mimi."

Her head jerked up, and she glared at him.  "This isn't funny.  They'll hang you."

"Yes."  Jason spoke the word without qualm.  He had grown resigned to death a long time ago.  He had felt all the joy of his unexpected reprieve, lived in this last day as though he had a whole future ahead of him, but deep down, he knew it would always come to this.  "I'm a pirate.  Call it a job hazard."

"Still not funny," Mimi fumed, swatting at him.  "Why don't you go away?  We're still anchored off the island.  Go hide there until we sail away."

"No."  His denial was inflexible.

"Why not?"

"Would you run and hide if you knew Lady Black and Lady Wesley were in trouble?"  Jason turned the full force of his gaze upon her until he saw her blush with shame.  

"No," she muttered finally, once again pressing close to him.  "But it's not fair!  I've only just found you.  We were going to get married, Jase.  You promised me a family, and a life, and without you, I don't have a life at all."

Jason felt the full impact of that last statement.  Her avowal struck him to the heart.  No answer, no reply could laugh that away.  All he could do was say words that would pain her further, but say them he must.  He might never have a chance to say them again.  "I love you."

Mimi didn't answer him.  With a broken cry, she pressed fervent lips to his, her hands twisting into his hair as though she never meant to let him go.  Jason's hands dug into her back, and he held onto her for his suddenly dear life.

~~*~~

"Get out."  The words were spoken calmly, and for that, Chloe was thankful.  Belle did not look likely to go into hysterics again anytime soon.  However, that was all there seemed to be for Chloe to be thankful.  The look on Belle's face as she stared up at her brother was nothing short of murderous.

_Of course, she doesn't know he is her brother_, Chloe consoled herself.  It was very poor consolation indeed when she saw the shafts of pain that drifted through Brady's crystal eyes.  She wondered if anyone would have seen that pain but herself, and then wondered again how Belle could not see how similar her own blue orbs were to the pirate's.  

"Of course," Brady was mumbling, when Chloe came back to the moment.  "I'm sorry for the intrusion, m'lady."

Chloe, seeing Brady was really about to leave, felt called upon to speak.  Lord Black was dead.  Didn't that make it more important than ever for his children to know each other?  "Intrusion?" she repeated, casually moving to block the exit.  "It's hardly an intrusion to carry back an unconscious woman, Captain, or to wait to assure yourself of her safety.  Lady Black owes you her thanks."  She darted a warning look over at Belle that was entirely lost on her petite friend.

"Thanks?"  It was Belle's turn to sound incredulous.  "Thank him for what?  For being abducted by pirates?  For spending weeks out at sea on this miserable boat?  Or, better yet, thank him for being the cause of my father's…my father's…"

She didn't need to finish that sentence.  Both her listeners knew what she meant.  It was all Chloe could do to restrain herself from throwing her arms around Brady's neck at the look that flashed across his face.  Her own grief for Lord Black receded into nothing compared to his, and only the knowledge that Belle was suffering every bit as acutely stopped her from scolding her for the pain she was causing Brady.  

Chloe took the more diplomatic road instead.  "That wasn't the captain's fault," she interjected softly, more for Brady's benefit than his sister's.

"Oh really?" Belle spat out.  It was clear she was taking refuge from her pain in anger.  Chloe couldn't blame her, but she wished she would direct it at a different source.  "Where was he when all this was happening then?"  She rose off the bed on unsteady legs, and Chloe winced as she saw again the blood on Belle's feet and petticoat.  It was not her own.  

"Perhaps if he had paid more attention to matters on his ship, instead of certain other…pursuits—" Belle cast a scathing look at Chloe, and Chloe felt the flush rising to her cheeks.  "Perhaps my father would still be alive."  Belle stopped mere inches from Brady, and for once seemed entirely unintimidated by him.  The loss of her father had brought her past the point of fear.  She stared him full in the face as she hissed up at him, "You killed him.  You did!  It's your fault he's dead.  You promised to keep us safe, but you killed him."

Chloe, who feared some return of Belle's hysteria, winced at the accusation and its effect on Brady but made no struggle to interfere.  She couldn't think what to do anyway.  Belle was beyond the reach of reason, and Chloe's feet and tongue seemed bound by invisible cords.  All she could do was make a placating gesture with her arm, which Belle steadfastly ignored.

Brady stared down at his half-sister from behind the mask, unblinking, unmoving, unspeaking, for a long time before he answered her charge.  "Yes."  His voice was raw and aching, and Chloe felt tears start into her eyes at the sound of it.  "Yes, m'lady.  It's my fault, and I'm sorry."

Chloe knew his words would have drastic effect on Belle, but she had hoped they would provide the same release of tears they had been responsible for on her part.  She never expected to see Belle's tiny, pale hand reach up and slap the pirate across the face.  Brady did nothing to stop her, and she continued to beat on him, his chest, his face, screaming and crying and using words Chloe didn't think Belle even knew.  She wanted to put a stop to this display, but she knew it wasn't her place.  She could only watch, silent tears streaming from her eyes, as Belle let out all her impotent fury and Brady accepted it as his just fate.

Belle continued to pound against his chest as long as her strength held out and then, surprising Chloe yet again, she seemed to crumple into him.  Her fist would occasionally thump at the solid muscle, but for the most part, she allowed herself to be locked inside Brady's strong arms, as he supported her from falling.  Her first true, real sobs escaped her now, and Brady did all he could to soothe her, stroking her hair, shushing her as if she was a mere child.

Chloe could only watch in awe, as Belle calmed under his ministrations.  Her breathing slowed while she continued to cry, and Chloe believed she fell half-asleep.  Brady noticed the change in her as well.  Gently, as though she would break under his touch, he lifted his sister in his arms and laid her down upon the bed, sinking down to his knees beside her.

There was no sound in the room now besides an occasional hiccupping sob from Belle, as tears flowed unceasing down the cheeks of all three.  Brady held onto his sister's hand, and she grasped it as her last security.  

~~*~~

It was a long time before Belle fell asleep, and Brady was able to flee her room.  He saw Chloe wanted to speak to him, but he waved her away.  He couldn't face her tonight, couldn't face anyone.  He stumbled down to the same storage hold he had once come to bind a wound.  Chloe had followed him then.  Part of him wished she would now.

But the larger part of him cried for relief from her watching, sympathetic eyes.  He felt he would break at any moment if he didn't find some release.  No sooner had he enclosed himself within the walls of his retreat than he screamed with mingled grief and fury and self-loathing.  He had seen Belle do the same when she had come upon the murder scene, and he envied her that freedom to go crazy for a few moments.  It had been a relief when she had hit him.  It would have been better if she could have stabbed a knife in his heart.  At least that would feel better than this tearing, unnamed pain.

Pain he hadn't felt since his mother died.

Brady struck out, uncaring where or what damage he did.  He splintered boxes with his fists.  He kicked walls, he slammed into rafters.  He didn't care.  He could demolish everything in the room, break every bone in his body.  Physical pain was a relief to all this dead weight inside.  He broke glass with his fist.  Whether a mirror, a lamp, or a jug, it was impossible to tell in the darkness.  But he finally felt the release of blood pouring down his skin, his own blood.  Not his father's, warm and spilled long before he got there.  The image appeared to him again, and he couldn't bear it.  He slammed himself into the wall, again and again and again.  He pushed himself until he could no more, and then he slumped onto the floor, utterly defeated.

Brady heard the door creak open and was unsurprised to see Chloe standing there.  She was framed by the light behind her, as well as the dim moonlight streaming in through the porthole—the only light in the room.  Her hair hung still down to her waist, she wore the white dress, and he found it impossible to believe that it was only this afternoon he had been possessing her, reveling in the joy of being with this sweet and innocent beauty.

The lady didn't say a word as she glided into the room.  She made no noise as she slipped down to sit beside him in silence, and Brady knew she would not leave him alone again tonight.  He was grateful.  He couldn't speak, but he was grateful.  

They sat there for a long time, the sounds of their breathing and the gentle lapping of water against the ship's hull the only noise.  Chloe turned to look at him, and to Brady, it seemed a signal.  He brought his hands up to cup her neck, not gently as usual, but trembling with a kind of violent energy that had only been partially expended through his rampage earlier.

Chloe flinched but did not try to draw away, not even when she felt the blood from his hand smearing on her neck.  Brady pulled her face within his reach and pressed his lips upon hers with bruising force.  He crushed her against him, his tongue forcing its way through the barrier of her teeth, assaulting her with its rough possession.  As swiftly as he began, he pulled away, his blue eyes glittering dangerously behind the black mask.  

"Are you sure you want to love a pirate, m'lady?" he demanded, with surprising venom.

Chloe sat quite still under his ruthless gaze.  Then, she pulled his hand to her throat and traced it down along her exposed skin to her left breast, leaving a trail of blood straight to her heart.  

Brady asked no more questions.  She had sealed her fate, and he used her sweet softness to dull his everlasting pain.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Seventeen**

Dawn had not yet broken when Mimi felt herself being shaken awake.  She came back to consciousness slowly, having only nodded off a few hours before.  Unwilling to leave Jason on what would likely be their last night together, she had settled herself beside him on deck, to keep watch with him throughout the night.  She had not counted on the lulling power of the boat's gentle rocking, the comfortable coolness of the sea breeze on her face, the hypnotizing motion of Jason's hand as he stroked her shoulder.  She had fallen asleep before she was even aware of being tired.

"Wake up, Mimi.  It's time."

Green eyes blinked open slowly to be confronted by equally emerald orbs staring directly into them.  It took only a moment for sanity to come rushing back to Mimi…and only seconds longer for fear to grip her.  "They're here?" she asked in a whisper.

Jason shook his head.  "Not yet, but they will be within the hour."  He pointed to a small blur on the horizon.  The iron set of his jaw showed he was taking this more seriously than the controlled tone of his voice would have betrayed to her.

Mimi's stomach clenched with dread.  "That's it then."  Her words choked her.  She couldn't stare at the indistinguishable ship any more.  Pulling her eyes away, she locked onto the sight of Jason's profile.  Tenderly, she traced every line of his face in her mind.  She implanted him so firmly in her consciousness not even eternity could remove him.

Eventually, Jason seemed to sense her perusal for he turned to her, his eyes more openly raw than she had ever seen them, even when he told her about his past.  He too seemed determined to memorize every inch of her face.  Then abruptly jerking away from her, he cleared his throat.  "You should awaken Lady Black and Lady Wesley.  You should all be ready to meet the ship when it gets here."

"Jason!"  

His name was a cry of reproach and regret that he could not ignore.  He looked at Mimi once more.  "It will only make it harder if you stay with me," he answered her silent plea.

"I never asked for it to be easy," Mimi returned defiantly.  "All I ask for is you; all I want is every last moment we can share."  The rising tears checked the rest of her words.  They were made superfluous by the fervor with which she pressed her lips to his.  Jason's arms wrapped around her and held her tight.

By the time he let her go, the H.M.S. _Miranda_ was bearing down upon them.

~~*~~

Chloe ached.  Her body cried out against its rough treatment the night before, and though she would never regret being with Brady when he needed her, not all her love for him could reason away this pain.  She wondered how something so very wrong could still feel so very right.  A blush suffused her cheeks as she recalled what they had done together.  She knew she would never be able to speak of it as long as she lived.

It was odd, she reflected philosophically, that he was the same man who had been so tender and loving with her by the waterfall.  Last night, there had been in him only a passion so dark it frightened her…at the same time it aroused her.  But then, Chloe understood the difference.  Yesterday, by the pool, he had removed his mask.  For only the second time, he had stood before her as Brady Black, the man he was meant to be.  Then, he had returned to his ship, only to find the father he had so long sought lay dead, murdered in cold blood.  He had found refuge in the mask.  He had become the ruthless Captain Blackheart yet again.  He had become what the world had made him.

Strange, how both men—the one he should be and the one he was—cared for her so deeply in their different ways.

Lady Wesley was allowed no more time for musing over the conflicting personalities of her lover.  As she slowly blinked awake, more of the events of the past few days crowded in on her.  Today was the day Brady had said the Navy would catch up with them, and there was no longer Lord Black to protect them.  The suddenness of his death had pushed all such thoughts out of Chloe's head yesterday, in the face of her concern for Brady and Belle.  But this morning, she was terrifyingly practical.

Chloe sat up too quickly and winced.  In addition to the rigorous activities of the previous night, she had fallen asleep on the wooden floor of the store room.  Her back felt stiff.  Her muscles were achingly tender and bruised.  She was unsurprised to find herself alone.  Light was shining in through the porthole.  The early morning sun was nearly blinding.  Brady would most likely have been awake for hours…if he had stayed with her at all.  Thinking back, she was unsure whether he had or not.

For a moment, all the religious prudery in which Chloe had been raised rushed back on her to shock and shame.  She realized only now what she had done, as it would appear in the disdainful eyes of society.  She was a fallen woman, a pirate's wench.  Worse yet, she had no claim upon Brady.  He had not even told her he loved her, she thought, her heart filling with even more sorrow at that thought.  

Perhaps it was for the best that she had no time to give into these recollections, as they were only preying more heavily on her already shattered nerves.  But, though given to introspection when she had time to be at leisure, Chloe knew how to act when the occasion demanded swift response.  She shoved every idle thought to the back of her mind and focused only the necessary actions for her day.

Obviously, the first thing she had to do was return to her cabin and choose a suitable dress for the day.  The native garment, however freeing it had been, would have to be discarded in favor of the traditional garb of an English lady of fashion.  She thought of the layers of petticoats, chemises, and corset with the horror of stifling her spirit once again.  But it was what had to be done.  She could only pray that Belle would still be sleeping when she returned to the cabin.

Even small favors would not be granted to her that day, it seemed.  No sooner had she tiptoed into the cabin and shut the door soundlessly behind her than she heard Belle's voice, coolly asking, "And where have you been all night?"

Chloe jumped about to face her friend, turning scarlet, then pale, then red again in a matter of seconds.  "Belle, I can explain."

Lady Black rose regally from her chair.  She was already dressed in the white silk gown she had been wearing the day they were abducted.  It still bore the stains from that day, but otherwise, Belle looked every inch the porcelain doll figure she had always been.  Her hair was swept back in a charming chignon.  Her blue eyes were alert, if red-rimmed from crying and a rather sleepless night.  Her sunburn had gradually turned into a light tan, and the color in some degree made up for the weight she had lost during her illness.  She carried her grief like the true lady she was, with the sedate dignity that had always astonished her friend.  

"There is no need," Belle stopped her before she could formulate an excuse.  She pressed a soft hand to Chloe's shoulder and squeezed gently.  "We will talk no more of what has happened on this ship, Chloe.  It's over and done with, all of it."  Her grasp tightened momentarily, and Chloe could feel her tremble, but she continued steadily, "I heard some passing sailors say the _Miranda would be here soon.  We shall go up and meet her and put all that has happened behind us."_

"Belle..." Chloe pleaded in a soft voice, as she took the trembling hand in both of hers.  "I admire your courage, but your father—"

"My father," Belle interjected abruptly, "is dead.  Not all the tears or wishes in the world will bring him back.  If you are truly my friend, Chloe, you will speak of him no more."

Under such an obligation, Chloe had no choice but to obey.  She searched desperately for another subject on which to speak.  "You must be pleased to see Commodore Brady again."

"Of course."  It was a testament to the true sorrow Belle was feeling that she could not muster up even a smile for her fiancé.  She merely rubbed the ruby ring on her finger desperately, like it was all she had left to depend on in the world.

A new terror seized Chloe as she observed this action.  For the first time in weeks, her mind reverted of its own will to her own betrothed, Philip Kiriakis.  She paled.  She had forgotten she was to be married to a near stranger upon her arrival in Jamaica.  But like all the other unpleasant thoughts of the morning, she pushed it out of her head.  _One thing at a time, _she instructed herself silently.

The reminder was a needed one.  It brought Chloe's mind back to her present task.  Following Belle's lead, she brought out the dress she had been wearing the day Blackheart took the _Dolphin._  The rich blue velvet seemed far from appealing to her now, but she summoned Jan to her from the other cabin and completed her toilette as fast as possible.  Belle, meanwhile, headed to the deck.

Twenty minutes later, laced in so tightly she could barely breathe, her hair swept up in one of the complicated, regal styles of the day, Lady Chloe Wesley gazed at her reflection in the mirror.  It astonished her that her blue eyes, so bright and carefree only the day before, should seem once again numb and haughty.  Surely a change in attire alone could not be responsible for this reversion to her former self.

"My lady?"

Chloe was darted out of her reverie by Jan's supplication.  "What is it?"

The even colder dark eyes of her maid stared back at her, as she made the traditional speech of begging pardon.  "I assumed you would want to wear this again today."  In her hand, she proffered the ostentatious diamond ring that marked Chloe as Philip's bride to be.

The iron that settled in the pit of Chloe's stomach was the final reclamation of who she used to be.  She had shed that piece of jewelry when she had shed this dress, leaving it in her maid's keeping.  She looked at it now as the chains binding her to a life of misery.  Overcoming her aversion, she grabbed the ring from Jan, wrapping it so tightly in her fist it cut her skin.  Flinching, she placed it on her ring finger, left hand.  

"Satisfied?" she remarked to Jan, noticing the other woman watched all her actions.

Jan met her gaze, and Chloe was astonished by the triumphant malice in what would otherwise have been a pretty face.  Perhaps Mimi was right in her suspicions.  "Perfectly so, Your Ladyship."

Chloe could handle no more of this private conference.  Her lungs burned for the sea air again, while her anxiety over the Navy's impending arrival increased by the moment.  Gesturing for Jan to follow, she made her way to the deck.

Though prepared to expect the arrival of the _Miranda, _Chloe was nearly overwhelmed to see the proximity of the two ships.  The large, sturdy naval vessel towered over the sleek, fast pirate ship.  Only an hundred yards still separated the ships.  Chloe was frantic now as she searched the crowded deck for Brady.  The entire crew waited for the boarding, and while some of them cursed and some muttered under their breaths, not one reached for a weapon.  Their captain had told them there would be no fight, and they would obey.

But the common sailors could have no interest for Chloe at this moment.  She spotted Belle nearly hanging over the ship's rail in her eagerness to get a glimpse of Shawn.  Not far from her, Jason and Mimi stood close together, not speaking, not looking at each other, but hands clasped so tightly Chloe wondered how their fingers could survive it.  Her stomach clenched at the sight.  They were in the same situation she and Brady were.

Brady.  Chloe spotted him then, apart from the others, waiting to welcome his doom.  As if sensing her earnest gaze, he pivoted towards her.  His eyes chilled her even from this distance as he mocked a low bow before her and turned abruptly away.  The ill feeling in her gut increased, and for a moment, she felt her knees start to weaken.  All her forgotten pride rallied to support her as she twisted from Brady's sudden and dispiriting coldness to stand next to Belle and wait for Shawn's arrival.  Though, she imagined, with highly different feelings.

~~*~~

Commodore Shawn Douglas Brady had risen far before the sun in order to have the earliest sighting of the _Vengeance_.  It was absolutely impossible to explain Blackheart's behavior since the day he had taken the _Dolphin.  Contradictory, irrational actions at every turn.  The one thing Shawn had never considered his pirate friend was stupid, but nothing short of madness could explain the course that had led them to this._

Minutes after daybreak, Shawn's sailors had shouted out their first sight of the quarry.  Shawn had raised his telescope for a better look and been struck dumb by what he saw.  The _Vengeance _was anchored in an island bay, patiently waiting the arrival of the British Royal Navy.  Even more shocking, they were flying the white flag of surrender.

"It must be a trap, Sir."  Rex Evans voiced the opinion of the entire crew.

"I think not, Lieutenant," Shawn contradicted him.  He lowered the eyeglass, still letting his gaze linger on the ever approaching ship.  "Let's sail on to meet her."

The jaw of his second in command nearly hit the deck before he recovered enough for speech.  "But, Sir—"

"Man the guns if you will, Evans," Shawn ordered coolly.  "But mark my words; there will be no need for them.  No one is to fire unless or until I give the order."

Rex straightened to attention, seeming to know he had pushed his captain as far as he dared.  "Aye, aye, Sir."  With a click of his heels, the lieutenant turned away and began barking orders at the crew.

Shawn could do nothing but watch as the _Vengeance_ inched nearer every moment.  He raised the glass to his eye again and began searching the deck.  He soon found what he was looking for.  There, standing by the railing, a vision of loveliness and purity in white, was his own, his beloved.  "Belle…"

The name slipped from him like a caress, and his eyes devoured her hungrily.  He wouldn't feel right again until he had taken her into his arms.  He hated that he would have to restrain himself until his duties were finished.  His uniform had never felt so choking.  He would have to do many things he found unpleasant today.  

Finally managing to tear his eyes away from Belle, Shawn surveyed the rest of the crowd.  It seemed the entire crew was gathered to meet them.  A masked man stood apart from the rest, towards the helm of the ship; his eyes were settled resolutely on the _Miranda_.  It took Shawn a few moments to place him as Blackheart himself.  He put thoughts of the strange pirate out of his head for the moment while he looked for the remaining captives.  Lady Wesley stood close to Belle, with the woman he could only presume was her maid waiting right behind her.  To their right, Mimi leaned on the rail, her face unusually solemn; Jason Masters, Brady's first mate, stood beside her.

It was then Shawn first realized who was missing in the scene.  More eagerly now, he ran the telescope along the deck.  They were almost close enough he had no need of it, but he scrutinized every single face in view.  "Lord Black's not there," he muttered, with increasing worry.  He tried to console himself that the Viscount might be held on the island or below decks as a bargaining chip, but something kept him from believing it.  Perhaps it was the look of despair on Belle's face or the sad way in which Lady Wesley seemed to view their coming.

Shawn turned to face his own crew.  "Lower the boats!" he commanded.

While his crew looked at him askance, they didn't hesitate to follow his orders.  The Royal Navy saved its worst punishments for sailors who disobeyed orders.  Shawn and half his men were in two longboats sailing towards the _Vengeance within minutes_._  Rex stayed behind to soothe his fears by loading the cannons Commodore Brady would not let him fire._

Shawn's expectations, however, were not deceived.  Upon their approach, rope ladders were thrown down to the naval men.  Shawn led his fearful crew aboard where they were met with respectful silence and not a weapon in sight.  

"Shawn!"  His name, cried from blessed lips, was the first sound that greeted his ears, as Belle rushed towards him.  

Shawn was quite prepared to spread his arms and allow her to fly into them, his position be damned, when another voice from the opposite end of the ship held him steady.

"Commodore Brady, before your loving reunion with Lady Black, might I beg the privilege of a word with you?"

As always, Shawn was taken aback by Blackheart's commanding presence.  It seemed Belle was, as well; she stopped mere feet from where he stood and glanced over at the pirate, her brows creasing in concern.  A few of Shawn's officers put their hands to their swords upon this request, and their actions were mirrored by pirates standing across from them.  

Shawn held up his hand to steady them all.  "I believe there are things the Captain and I must discuss," he replied, loud enough for everyone on deck to hear.  "Stand down for a few minutes."

With some murmuring, the men relaxed their attention, though they continued to gaze on each other with suspicion.  The crowd opened for Shawn to pass through to the helm, where only Brady awaited him.  He had devised dozens of things to say to his old friend upon their first meeting, but when he came face to…well, mask, all of them flew from his head, and he spit out the first thing that came to his mind.  "What the hell were you thinking, man?" he hissed, though he remembered to keep his voice low enough to be inaudible to any listeners.

"I'm not sure I was exactly," Brady returned, unfazed.  He looked as though he had anticipated that reaction.  And well he might.  "But I have every intention of explaining my actions to you, provided you comply with three requests."

"With all due respect, my friend, you're not in a position to be making requests," Shawn gritted out.  "Nor am I in any humor to give them."

"I understand what you must be feeling, Shawn.  I betrayed your trust, and I'm deeply sorry for it.  If I had known how all this would end…I would never have done it.  You have to believe that."

"I readily can, since the end of it all is that I'm going to be forced to hang you.  You do realize that, don't you, Brady?  Nothing I can do would save you now.  You've been too public.  You attacked an _English ship, for God's sake!  What the devil possessed you to do such a thing?"_

"I've told you, I'll explain it all.  Just be patient.  But at least listen to my proposal."

Shawn hesitated a moment.  He felt Brady was taking advantage of their old friendship—a friendship he himself had shattered—and he was disinclined to acquiesce to his request [hehe, sorry, PotC joke, it slipped in there no matter how hard I tried to stop it].  On the other hand, what could it hurt to just listen?  "Very well," he returned coolly.  "But I make no promises."

Brady seemed to expect that.  "I ask for none, although I doubt you will find them so difficult to honor once you have heard them.  First, I would ask that my explanations might be deferred until we can speak in private.  Secondly, that while in public, you refrain from using my Christian name.  And thirdly, that whatever I tell you will pass no further than yourself…at least all that is of a personal nature.  I ask this not for my sake, but for the sake of one you claim to love."  As he ended this speech, the pirate looked beyond Shawn to Belle, who was watching them, though too far removed to hear their conversation.

"What?  What has Lady Black to do with all this?"  Shawn furrowed his brow in confusion.  "I don't understand, Blackheart.  What game are you playing now?"

"No games," Brady continued steadfastly.  "The time for games is over.  I am fully resigned to my fate; indeed, I deserve no better.  But there is still an unfinished matter which must be resolved, and I shall need your assistance to finish it."

"Quit speaking in riddles," Shawn snapped.  "What is this about?"

"It's about punishing the murderer of Lord John Black," Brady whispered, his blue eyes behind the mask turning to stone.

Shawn drew back as though struck.  "Lord...Lord Black is…dead?"

"Yes.  Murdered, aboard my ship, and the killer must be caught.  I shan't rest easy in my grave until it is done, and if—as you say—I am to hang, the task will fall on you to find him, whoever he may be.  I'll tell you all you need to know, but not now and not here.  Besides, it won't do to have the ladies standing out in this heat all day.  They've been through enough already."

"Yes, yes, all right," Shawn agreed, distracted.  Then, as Brady moved to pass him, he grabbed his arm.  "Blackheart, what do you mean the ladies have 'been through enough?'  Have any of them been harmed in any way?"

The pirate's eyes seemed to flicker to Lady Wesley for the slightest of moments, before he looked away, murmuring, "I pray to God, not."

Shawn, feeling more confused and frustrated by the moment, saw no reason to prolong a discussion which was getting him nowhere.  With quick military thinking, he settled the matter.  If he had to talk to Brady alone, then naturally, he would have to be imprisoned alone.  "Will your men surrender voluntarily?" he asked, in clipped tones.

Blackheart seemed relieved at his quick change of subject.  "Yes.  I've given orders, and my men never disobey me."

Shawn couldn't help be envious.  He wondered if his own men—even in their sworn duty—would have such implicit faith in him as to die for him.  "All right then."  He turned to the waiting crowd, signaling for silence.  "By order of His Majesty King Charles II, Captain Blackheart and the crew of the _Vengeance are under arrest until return to Port Royal, Jamaica, where you will face trial for murder and piracy.  You are hereby ordered to resign all your weapons to the officers' possession, after which the crew will be escorted into the hold of the __Vengeance and kept under guard by His Majesty's Royal Navy.  Captain Blackheart shall be held in the brig of the _Miranda_, thus preventing any mutiny.  The ladies shall be transported immediately back to the _Miranda_.  Go to it."_

~*~

Chaos was the immediate reaction of all the persons on deck.  The pirates saw their own captain hand over his pistols, shot, and sword to Commodore Brady and were reluctantly doing the same to the officers who came for theirs.  Some of the navy men were heading below deck, presumably to search the hold before placing the prisoners in it.  Others were preparing to take the women back across to their own ship.

In all this activity, one pair was left unnoticed for a few moments.  Jason turned to look down upon Mimi, as she was jostled closer to him by the crowd.  She began to cry, and he framed her face with his hands as gently as he possibly could.  "Hey, hush now," he instructed softly.  "Don't cry."

She obediently swiped the tears away, but it did no good.  They were replaced in seconds.  "I can't leave you," she swore, putting her arms around his waist and burying herself close to him.  "They can't make me.  I won't leave you."

"You have to," Jason commanded, putting her away a little.  He pushed her chin up so she was forced to look directly into his eyes.  "Listen to me, Mimi.  You have to board that ship.  You have to sail back to Port Royal and pretend that nothing every happened between us."

Mimi pulled away, angry defiance spreading over her beautiful features.  "Do you honestly think I can do that?  Just forget all about you?  I could never do that!  Not in a million years."

"I'm not asking you to forget," Jason soothed, though her words tore into his heart.  "I'm asking you to 'pretend.'  There's a very great difference.  For instance, I can pretend to go docilely along with this plan.  I can pretend to resign myself to swinging by the gallows."

Mimi searched his eyes, trying to understand.  "What's going to happen, Jase?" she whispered.  "What are you planning?"

He pressed a finger to his lips, but he managed a small smile and wink at her.  "Don't ask questions, Mimi.  Just remember to pretend until I find you again."

Hope sprung to life in her face, as she pressed his hand eagerly with hers.  "You will find me though?  You promise?"

"Well, I have to.  I promised to marry you, didn't I?  And I never break my word."  Over her shoulder, Jason could see two burly sailors approaching them.  "But you have to go now."

Mimi turned her head and saw them too.  She cast one last longing look at Jason.  "I love you," she breathed.

Jason smirked.  "I know."

Then, he watched, powerless, while Mimi was pulled away to the longboats, and he was stripped of his weapons and led down to the hold of a ship no one knew better than himself.

~*~

Shawn's mind spun with all the information he had gathered from Brady over the last two hours.  That it was unusual for his friend to bear the Christian name which matched his last he had always known, but he had deemed it a coincidence.  Not once had he assumed that Captain Blackheart, the most infamous pirate of the Caribbean Sea, might by the Brady Black, named for his grandfather and lost to them all when Shawn was merely a baby.  

For years, he had been the friend of Belle's brother, and he never even knew it.  Perhaps that seemed more shocking than all the other revelations Brady had made.  Brady's belief on a pending Spanish attack on the _Dolphin which had prompted his own actions in the affair seemed an everyday occurrence in comparison.  Even the murder of Lord Black, the strange deception Kevin Lambert had apparently practiced upon them all could not arouse the same feeling of disbelief._

He made his way up the ladder to the deck of the _Miranda without remembering the trek up from the brig.  Lost in thought, he was unprepared to be accosted by his first mate upon his appearance._

"Commodore, are you ready to give the order to set sail?" Rex asked, before he had proceeded ten yards from the ladder.

"What?" Shawn muttered, not even hearing the question.

Rex repeated it more slowly this time.  He seemed to be wondering whether Shawn had lost his mind today.

Shawn was wondering the same thing himself, but he comprehended the inquiry this time.  He looked up at the sky.  "I think not, Evans.  A storm's blowing in.  We'll wait until it passes.  Better not to risk it at sea."

"Commodore, with all due respect, if we wait too long, we'll be stranded here through hurricane season."

"Better here than in the middle of the blasted ocean!" Shawn snapped.  "We weather here until the storm passes, and that's an order."  Muttering under his breath about insubordinate officers, Shawn turned away and stomped to his cabin.

"Sir!" Rex called after him.  "Sir, your cabin—"

But Shawn didn't wait to hear the rest.  He barreled into his accustomed sanctuary to be greeted with the surprised exclamations of four young women.  He drew away, mildly surprised.  He had been too engrossed with hearing Brady's tale to give a thought to where the ladies would stay, but now it seemed only natural they would be placed in the finest accommodations his ship had to offer.  He was backing away, muttering apologies, when Belle's voice caught him.

"Commodore, don't be ridiculous," she said, with every appearance of propriety, though she had risen upon his entrance and her cheeks were uncommonly bright.  "As you see, none of us are indecent.  Stay and sit with us a while."

Shawn looked around him, seeing Mimi engaged in needlework, while Lady Wesley held a volume in her hand that she had evidently been reading aloud to all of them.  The other maid sat silent and reserved in the corner.  "I would not intrude upon your privacy," he stammered.  "And I must own that I am not in a fit state to entertain others at the moment.  I shall, of course, hope to have the pleasure of dining with you all."  

With a short bow, he left the cabin.  He could see by the look on Belle's face that she was surprised and hurt, and well she might be, given that mere hours ago he had been counting the seconds until he could hold her again.  But right now, hers was the last face he wanted to see.  He had sworn not to tell Belle a word of Brady's story.  The promise already choked him, though he respected the reasons for which Brady had exacted it.

"You must not tell Belle, Shawn," Brady had pleaded after finally finishing his story.  He had pulled off the mask and held it in his hands, staring down at it in disgust.  "I started wearing this thing so that she would never know, her or my father.  At first, I was afraid of them.  I wanted to know what kind of people they were, if they would betray me.  But then, the longer time went on, the more I knew I could never let them know.  My father found out…though I don't know whether it was more pain to him than it was worth.  But Belle…"

Brady stopped momentarily, averting his eyes, before he lifted them to stare Shawn full in the face.  Shawn was astonished by the love he saw shining out of them.  He had never thought the pirate was capable of such an emotion.  "She's so _good_, you see.  If you had seen her on this trip, seen her on her feet all hours of the day trying to help others—when she was half-dead herself, you would understand.  She's lost everything, you know, because of me.  But there are two things she has left; she has you, and she has her good name.  I won't let her lose anything more because of me.  She must never know, Shawn.  Promise me, you will never tell her."

And Shawn had promised.  Unwilling to the last, it was only the thought of Belle being made to suffer that could extort such a vow from him.  He would keep his word, but seeing Belle now was impossible.  Every feature would be traced for the resemblance to her brother.  He could not tell her things which would only add to her grief.  To have lost a father was horror enough.  To know that she had a brother and was about to lose him as well would have been too much for her to bear.

"Commodore?"

Her sweet, angelic tones were an unwelcome addition to his reverie.  It did not help that she sounded afraid of being spurned again.

Slowly, Shawn turned away from the rail to face her.  Loose tendrils of blonde hair whipped against her face in the strengthening breeze.  Her eyes looked stormy as the sea around her, but she didn't allow tears to fall as she faced him.  When Shawn had first met her, he had felt she was something precious, to be sheltered from all harm.  Fragile and delicate, in mounds of satin and lace, she had been an innocent in a world far too dark.

That cherubic appearance was lessened by the weight she had lost, the brownness of her skin.  The disarming simplicity which had first made him fall in love with her had been replaced by something harder, more worldly.  The Belle before him had seen loss and felt pain.  She had been forced to depend on her own strength and make it through traumatic experiences he would willingly have kept her from all her life.

But something extraordinary had happened through her suffering.  The Belle Black he had loved was a girl; the one before him now was a woman.

That hardly made his love for her disappear.  Indeed, it heightened his adoration into a more lasting respect.  She was no goddess now; she was flesh and blood.  And she needed him.  "Belle," he murmured.

In a word, in the whisper of her name, all was forgiven.  Shawn opened his arms, and she fell into them, allowing her reserve to break, as she clung quietly to him and let tears soak his uniform while she sobbed.  "My father…" she managed.

"I know, I know, Belle," he stopped her painful explanation and pulled her even closer.  She melted into his arms, small and trembling.  She fit there perfectly.

For the first time in months, Shawn Douglas Brady felt complete.

~*~

Lady Chloe could not be prevailed upon to read any longer after Belle rushed out of the cabin.  She threw the book from her and began to pace the room, her expression as agitated as her steps.  Mimi watched her, holding onto her appearance of calm as she continued mending her dress as well she could.  It was only when Chloe began muttering things under her breath that the maid felt some action would have to be taken.  If Chloe continued this way, she would undoubtedly say something she would not want Jan to hear.

"Jan, fetch her Ladyship some water," Mimi ordered the other servant.  She had no hope of the girl obeying, but at least it would make Chloe aware again of her presence.  

Both her assumptions proved correct.  Jan merely glared at her, while Chloe stopped pacing to stare at her maid.  "Yes, Jan, you should go.  Belle's out unattended, you know.  That can hardly be proper."

"Then, send _her _maid to follow her," Jan returned ungraciously.

Chloe looked down upon her, her chin lifting haughtily.  "I gave you an order, Jan.  I expect you to follow it.  But don't go too close to Belle.  She and the Commodore will have things to discuss."

Jan rose in a huff and left the cabin, giving them both murderous looks as she went.  Mimi shuddered.  There was something highly disturbing about that woman.  

No sooner was she gone than Chloe resumed her march around the small room.  Mimi wondered how she could avoid getting dizzy.  This time, however, the lady didn't restrain herself to mutterings.  In Mimi's presence, she was at her most unrestrained.  "Oh, Mimi!  What are we going to do?  This isn't right!  They can't hang them.  They just can't!  They didn't do anything wrong."

Mimi chuckled, breaking into her rant.  "Well, there is the little matter of them being pirates."

Chloe whirled around to glare down at her in furious disbelief.  "How can you talk like that?  When I know…I _know you love Jason."_

"Yes," Mimi responded quietly, her eyes only on her sewing.  "Yes, I love him.  We're…we're going to get married."

When no answer greeted her words, she stole a look at the tall brunette.  Chloe was gaping down at her, mouth hanging open.  Mimi giggled at her surprise, which seemed to force Chloe back to some degree of composure.  "When did it happen?" she demanded, sitting herself down at the maid's feet.  

Mimi was always surprised at Chloe's breaches of decorum, but Chloe herself seemed unaware that she had done anything wrong by situating herself so, and Mimi found it only endeared the lady to her.  A woman who could be so regardless of rank had to possess goodness of which others were unaware.  "On the beach, yesterday.  Jason asked me to marry him.  What you walked in on…it wasn't what it looked like."

Chloe grinned wickedly.  "Well, it's nice to know he's going to make an honest woman of you."  Her smile fell as quickly as it came.  "Oh, but he's not, Mimi!  How can he, if they're going to hang him?  This must be even worse for you than it is for me."

Mimi had a doubt of this.  She had not asked the reason behind Chloe's soaked appearance the day before out of a fear of hearing the answer, but she rather imagined what had taken place between her and the captain.  "It would be," she said slowly, "except I'm not completely convinced of Jason's hanging.  He made me a promise, and he never breaks his word."

Lady Wesley looked up at her in thorough confusion.  "What do you mean, Mimi?  Do you know something I don't?"

Mimi shrugged, looking through the porthole to the ship anchored next to theirs.  "I don't know anything.  I would feel a lot better if I knew.  But I feel…I feel like there's more to this story than we know, and I think we shouldn't give up hope quite so soon.  It's a long way between here and Execution Dock.  Who knows what might happen?"


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Eighteen**

"Would you stop that pacing?  You're making me dizzy."

Shawn stopped walking but glared at his smirking friend.  "You know you're the one behind bars here.  Don't you think you should burn off a little nervous energy?"

Brady studied him coolly.  Shawn had never yet learned how to be philosophical about life.  This was the first time he had been caught in a serious ethical dilemma, and it was driving him insane.  Brady could see that on the taut lines of his face, even if his frantic movements had not given it away.  Surprisingly, he felt more for the Commodore's situation than for his own.  Death did not frighten him; he had cheated it once too often.  

The pirate leaned back against the wall of his cell, his arms crossing leisurely in front of him.  "Why should I?  You're expending enough worry for the both of us."

"This is wrong, Brady," Shawn went on, continuing his march round the small confines of the brig of the H.M.S. _Miranda_.  "You didn't kill anyone—"

"Oh no?" Brady interrupted, with every appearance of calm.  Inside, images were flashing across his brain, leaving him the urge to be ill.  "I doubt the crew of the _El Diablo or a dozen ships like her would agree."_

Once again, the officer froze, this time with his back to Brady.  Brady watched him stiffen.  He knew Shawn didn't like hearing the details of his exploits, but facts were facts.  Shawn would have to face them sooner or later.  

"It won't be those murders you'll be hanged for," Shawn gritted out, still facing the wall.

"Sure it will.  You've been to executions before, Commodore.  They'll read out a whole long list of charges, and then they'll snap a rope, and in ten minutes, I'll be dead.  Not that bad when you think about it.  I could have had much worse."

Shawn whirled around, dark eyes flashing with rare anger.  "You're being frightfully cavalier about this, Captain.  But may I remind you of a few things?"

Brady nodded.  He knew what Shawn was about to say and had to let him express it, though nothing could alter his resignation.  The information Shawn was about to offer was going to do nothing but pain both of them.  Still, he had made Shawn guardian of his secret and owed him a hearing.

"First of all, your actions no longer affect just yourself.  You have a sister to think of now, you know.  Lady Black's father is dead; her mother is all the way across the Atlantic, and not in any position to be taking care of her.  You, and you alone, _Lord_ Black, have the duty to protect her."

"In return, there are some things you need to acknowledge, Commodore Brady.  I am not Lord Black.  I have admitted my parentage to you, and you believe me, because you are my friend and know I am a man of honor.  The world, however, is not so trusting.  I have no certificate proving my birth.  The two people who could have attested to it are both dead.  As far as anyone who matters is concerned, Brady Black died in a shipwreck when he was four years old.  Belle has no suspicion of being my sister, and it is best that it remains so.  Such a revelation could do nothing more than cause her pain, as I explained to you already."

"And that's it then?" Shawn exclaimed, still fuming on the other side of the iron bars.  Brady could see his words had been to some effect, however.  Shawn's shoulders began to slump in resignation.  "You're just going to turn your back on her, on your obligations to your only living relative?"

Brady's own temper sparked at this implication.  "Of course not.  I'm thinking of her best interests, don't you see that?  And I'm not leaving her unprotected…I'm leaving her with you."

Shawn's remaining anger melted away, as Brady had known it would.  He seemed as aware as even Brady could wish him to be of the honor such a claim gave him.  "In other words, you give us your blessing?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't?  Shawn, I've known you loved my sister since the moment you mentioned her, and I didn't even know she was my sister then.  I've seen certain proof that she loves you.  Luckily, she's stumbled upon one of the very few men in the world—perhaps the only one—who is worthy of her."

The Commodore looked thrilled under Brady's praise.  He held out his hand to shake through the gaps in the cell, and then seemed suddenly aware of them again.  In a burst of rage, he kicked them, doing nothing more than hurting his own foot in the process.  "You're going to be my brother, damn it.  They can't hang you!"

"They can, and they will," Brady returned, in a voice as cold as steel.  "That's something you've got to accept, Shawn.  I made my own choices; you don't need to feel responsible for this.  It was my own doing entirely, and I won't have you lose your career over it.  If you feel an obligation to me, then follow my instructions.  Take care of my sister, and find our father's murderer.  That's all I ask."

"You know I will, Brady.  I already swore I would, but this isn't right.  You can't be as calm about this as you appear."

Brady's eyes raked over him fleetingly.  Shawn was more perceptive than he thought.  "I'm not saying I want to die, Shawn…although at this moment, I'm not too pleased with the life I'm living.  My father just died; he was murdered because of my negligence.  If you think I'm going to start claiming my life is worthy of being spared, when his was not, you're not as smart as I think you are."

"You're grieving right now, Brady," Shawn continued to plead.  "You're not in a position to be making life or death decisions.  You—"

"I'm not making any decisions here, Shawn.  I'm simply telling you to do your job.  Your job is to bring me back to Port Royal to face a tribunal.  That's what you're going to do.  What happens after that is out of your hands…and mine."

"But it's not just _your_ trial!  What about your men?  Are you really prepared to let all those men die out of loyalty to you?"

Brady let out a slow breath of relief.  If Shawn had moved so far, he was finally beginning to accept that Brady's death was unavoidable.  "I haven't said a word about them.  I _won't say a word about them."  _

Shawn stopped, searching his friend's expression.  Brady willed him to understand.  He would say no more.  He would not put his sister's betrothed at risk.

"All right then," Shawn said, after a long pause.  There was something in his voice which conveyed he understood the message.  He picked up his hat from the post on the wall.  "I must leave you.  I shall be expected at supper shortly, but I'll have something brought down for you."

Brady frowned as Shawn left the brig, which was still unguarded, though his cell was locked.  There had been something not quite natural in the way he'd spoken that last sentence.  It better not mean what he thought it did.

~~*~~

It seemed a lifetime to Mimi since she had last helped her mistress to dress for the evening, though in reality it had only been a few months.  The world of Black Hall was a far cry from merchant ships and pirate vessels.  When the invitation had come to dine with Commodore Brady and his officers, Chloe, Belle, and Mimi had all looked at each other in complete bewilderment.  They all imagined such civility was left behind with the last view of the English shore.

Belle, however, had recovered more quickly than the others.  To her, the life she had led before this journey, even with the unhappiness at home, was heaven compared to the hell she'd gone through since she had begun it.  She immediately ordered Mimi's assistance in airing out the gowns in her trunk.  The Commodore had thoughtfully brought along their luggage, left behind when they'd been abducted from the _Dolphin._

Mimi was in awe as she lifted dress after dress from the tightly packed chest.  Lady Marlena had ordered Belle's trousseau from London before they set off on their journey, and, with few exceptions, the clothes had not been worn before.  She passed by the bridal gown, of purest white, and three ball gowns of the latest fashion, before seeing appropriate evening wear.  Reverently, she produced a pale blue creation that epitomized her ethereal mistress.  "Would this one do, my lady?" she asked, revealing it to Belle's sight.

Belle looked on it with appreciative eyes for a moment, before her expression resumed the despairing look she had not been without for the past two days.  She shook her head and marched past her maid to do her own ransacking of the clothes.  Finally, at the bottom of her second trunk, she found what she had been looking for.  "This one, Mimi."

Mimi winced at the necessary formality.  Black from head to toe, high collar, long sleeves, and layers of heavy silk.  A mourning dress.  How could she have forgotten?

"Belle," Chloe said softly, as she observed their discussion.  "You can't wear that here.  I know you want to show respect for your father, but it's too hot and heavy.  You'll suffocate.  No one here doubts how much you loved Lord Black."

Belle whirled around to face her friend, blue eyes showing pain and rage.  Mimi winced.  She expected this to come to another fight such as the ones Chloe and Belle had had during the early days of their captivity, but she underestimated how much they both had changed since then.  

"I shall wear this dress, Chloe," Belle returned with determined coldness, though her tone was not harsh.  "I shall show my father all the honor he deserves, and I shall not allow the unnaturalness of this place interfere with what I know to be my duty."

Chloe appeared momentarily surprised at her friend's forcefulness, but she recovered quickly.  "All right, Belle," she responded, with a gentleness that could not fail to touch the other girl.  "I'm sorry for my interference."

Belle managed a forgiving nod in return, and Mimi resumed her duties, helping Belle to shed the ruined white dress and beginning the long and laborious process of her toilette.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chloe turn to her own chests with an expression of the utmost distaste, but the lady obediently began searching in her extravagant frocks for something suitable to wear.  Even Jan had recovered enough of a sense of duty to help her mistress.

It was while Mimi was styling Belle's hair that she first became aware the rocking of the boat was intensifying.  Wind was battering at the windows.  

Belle noticed it as well and groaned.  "Oh no, not another storm."

Chloe, on the other hand, jumped out of her chair, regardless of the fact that she had absolutely ruined Jan's efforts on her thick, difficult locks.  She ran out the cabin and was out of sight before Belle or Jan could do more than sputter at her.  She returned a moment later, her cheeks pink from the force of the breeze.  "There's a storm coming in from behind us," she announced.  "Clouds are rolling in over the island."

"You're pleased about this?" Belle asked, bewildered.

"Oh, I just thought I would tell you, that's all."  Chloe's nonchalance might have fooled Belle, but Mimi knew exactly the cause of the lady's joy.  She shared in it.  Only a fool or a madman would leave a safe harbor to take a boat out in a thunderstorm.  Even her short acquaintance with the sea had taught her that.  This storm could be what they needed to buy Blackheart and Jason time to escape.

Chloe caught Mimi's eye and smiled.

~~*~~

As Shawn took her arm to lead her into the captain's dining room, Belle let out a gasp of shock.  The room, while not ornate, was large and well-furnished.  The chairs were padded with ivory-colored cushions; lamps and candles illuminated the long table with the exquisite china place settings.  A dozen officers rose and bowed to welcome her.  It was like entering another world…or rather disappearing back into the one which she had left.

If the floor would only stay steady beneath her feet, she would think herself attending another dinner party of the London season.

Shawn was introducing all his officers, and Belle curtseyed and greeted them all, though she could not recall their names a moment after they were spoken.  Thankfully, the men did not seem to expect much from her.  It was enough to have two fine ladies amongst them.  As more than one gallant told her once they were seated, there were few enough women of quality in the whole Caribbean, never mind a ship like this.

"But it's such a lovely ship," she exclaimed.  "I never knew they made them like this."

"I'm not surprised at that, Your Ladyship," the man to her right remarked.  He was rather tall, with a commanding presence and a charming smile.  She wondered what color his hair might be beneath the periwig.  

It nearly made her giggle to see men wearing the fashionable hairpieces again.  Belle had always thought the fashion a trifle silly, and after months seeing men wearing their hair loose, it seemed downright ridiculous.  She wished Shawn would take his off.  He had dressed for dinner, and she missed his flowing brown hair.  

"Why is that?" she responded appropriately, drawing her attention back to the gentleman's conversation rather than his appearance.

"Well, your experience at sea has been rather limited until now.  Merchant fleets and pirate ships are no place for a lady like yourself.  Now, I trust, you will comprehend the superiority of the Royal Navy to any other ships in the world."  He inclined his head slightly towards Belle, as he simultaneously complimented her and himself.

The clatter of silver hitting glass brought Belle's attention to the seat across from her, where Chloe was placed.  Her friend was looking furious, and Belle was pleased it was not her who was the source of such anger.

"It is strange you should say so, Lieutenant," she hissed at the man who had just been speaking, "seeing as how there is no earthly way you could have captured the _Vengeance_ if its captain had not permitted it."  Her chin lifted with pride at the end of this speech.

Belle could only stare at her, open-mouthed in astonishment.  She knew Chloe had been growing…attached to the captain, but that she could sit there and defend pirates to their rescuers!  It was unthinkable!  "Chloe, I hardly think it is appropriate for you to discuss matters of which you know nothing."

"I know that the _Vengeance _was able to commandeer a British merchant vessel without a single life being lost.  I know that Captain Blackheart pledged himself for our safety, and we are all safely delivered into the care of the _magnificent Royal Navy."  Her tone dripped sarcasm.  _

"Not all of us," Belle returned, wincing with pain as she thought of her father.

Shawn cleared his throat. He was seated at the head of the table, directly between the two ladies, and up until this point, he had been silent.  Belle looked up at the noise but found, with some surprise, that he was staring at Chloe, instead of herself—and with an expression of satisfied approval.  Realizing Belle was watching him, he turned to smile at her and directly said, "Evans, as you have started this argument, it is best you close it by picking a subject less debatable."

"Most willingly, Sir," replied Lieutenant Evans, the man on Belle's right.  "I might begin by offering a toast to the health and happiness of your future bride."

Belle blushed and lowered her gaze as the men drank in her name.  It was not the compliment that unsettled her, but rather the mention of her upcoming marriage.  The idea of it had been pushed aside by her father's sudden death, and while she was glad to be by Shawn's side again, she could not see herself being ready for matrimony any time soon.  She needed time to grieve, and yet, with no father to shield her, no mother to guide her, it would appear she had no options but to wed as quickly as possible.  To stay in Jamaica without husband or guardian would be scandalous.  Her father would never have approved.

But no sooner had the men resumed their seats than Chloe started in again.  "I notice one distinct difference between this ship and the one I last left.  On the _Vengeance, _no man would think of sitting down while there were ladies present without seats."  Belle could only wonder what evil spirit had control of her friend's mouth that night.

The man called Evans stared at the brunette in confusion.  "Your Ladyship, I must beg the privilege of understanding you.  Are not you situated comfortably?"

Chloe smiled a smile full of poison, as she tipped her wine glass to him.  "Yes, Lieutenant, I am.  You, however, need your eyes examined, for from where I sit, I see one lady standing, and I know from yours, you can see another."

Evans choked on his food, as his eyes lifted, and he realized who she meant.  He leaned in closely and lowered his voice to the most discreet whisper, before he ventured to say, "The women in question are your servants, are they not?"

"Bravo!  Well spotted," returned Chloe, not bothering to modulate the sound of her own voice.  "I beg pardon.  You have eyes in your head after all.  It's a good thing, too; a requisite quality in a sailor, I believe."

Evans continued to stare at Lady Wesley for a moment, puzzled, before turning to his captain.  "Sir, I have not the gift of understanding this lady."

Shawn merely smiled.  "That's all right, Rex.  I believe I'm beginning too."  And he again gazed at Chloe with strange pleasure, while ordering chairs to be vacated for the use of Mimi and Jan.  

Belle could hardly find such a change in her fiancé promising, and Chloe's comments so far this evening had already distressed her.  Addressing herself to Rex, therefore, she replied smoothly, "If you have trouble comprehending Lady Wesley, it is merely because she is of a nature not to be understood by one such as yourself.  You see, my friend finds strange pleasure in the company of pirates."  

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Belle regretted them.  The table fell silent, Shawn shot her a disapproving glance, and Chloe turned red, though with embarrassment or fury, it was impossible to discern.

Lieutenant Evans was the first to speak after this startling declaration.  "Is this true, Your Ladyship?" he demanded of Chloe, his eyes screaming disdain.  "You have a sympathy for your captors?"

Chloe continued to glance at Belle in the most sadly reproachful manner, as she answered, "Yes, I believe I do, but then, it's hard to hate a man who saves your best friend's life."

Belle winced at the none-too-subtle reminder, but she quickly summoned back all her pride.  "I was properly grateful to the Captain at the time, as you no doubt recall, Chloe.  Forgive me if my father's death has somewhat swallowed up my gratitude."

"That wasn't his fault!" Chloe protested sharply.  "You know it wasn't.  Why are you being like this, Belle?  If you only knew—"  She cut off abruptly, returning her full attention to her meal.

"If I only knew what?" Belle pressed her.

"I do believe it's starting to rain outside," Shawn interposed smoothly.  "Quite glad not to be out at sea in that, you know."

The other officers seemed to sense their assistance was required, and the men carried on a general, pleasant conversation throughout the next three courses.  Chloe spoke not a word; her head stayed bent over her plate.  And Belle, out of humor with herself and all those around her, could scarcely recollect the answers to the commonest inquiries the sailors made of her.

~~*~~

It had been all Shawn could do not to drag Lady Chloe Wesley out of the room during supper and demand to know everything she knew and felt about Captain Blackheart.  Only the presence of Belle and his officers had restrained him.  His patience, however, was already stretched to the limit, and when the meal was over and the ladies rose, instead of turning to Belle, as everyone expected, he immediately offered his arm to her friend.

He cared naught for the stares of his men.  Let them think him fickle if they chose, but he could not look at Belle's wounded expression without pain.  He chose not to look at her at all.  "I believe you have some interest in the storm, Lady Wesley?" he asked, when she hung back from his proffered attention.  "I saw you watching its approach and would be honored if you would allow me to show you Nature in all its fearsome glory."

Chloe's expression of affront turned into one of surprise.  He knew it had to be the strangest request anyone had ever made of her, and he prayed she would see it as it really was—an attempt to speak with her alone.  She said nothing for a long time, and everyone around them seemed to be awaiting her response with baited breath.

"I would be delighted," she murmured, slipping her arm through his.

Rex stepped forward to block their path.  "Commodore," he warned, with an eloquent glance at Belle.

"Lieutenant, escort Lady Black to the cabin."  Shawn's authoritative tone left no room for question, and the others parted to allow him through with Chloe at his side.

He still could not look at Belle.

Shawn spoke not a word as he led Chloe to the ship's rail.  They were soaked within minutes.  The thunder and lightening were still at a distance, but he knew they would be here within an hour at most.  The wind clutched at Chloe's skirts, and she struggled for balance.  Shawn's hat and wig were lost in the breeze; he didn't care.

"What's this all about, Commodore?" she demanded finally.  He knew she was speaking normally, but the wind pulled her words away, so they barely struck his ear.  Perfect.  Anyone beyond them would never be able to overhear their discourse.

"You have a sympathy for pirates," he began.

The lady's back stiffened, and her eyes flared.  He could see the righteous anger pouring off of her as easily as the rain matting the hair to her head.  "I hardly believe that is your affair, Sir.  There is no connection that entitles you to—"

"No, there is no connection with _you_," Shawn interrupted hastily.  The quicker he got this out, the better.  He leaned closer to her and saw her start, though she did not back away.  "But for the sake of those we both care about, you must disregard all the formalities and hear me.  I have my sympathies, too."

Chloe searched his eyes before inclining her head slowly.  "I'm listening."

"I owe Captain Blackheart a life debt.  I owe him more than that, but that is enough for now.  He has forbidden me from using my influence on his behalf.  I know not your relationship to the Captain."  Here, Shawn thought he saw her blush.  "But if you have any concern for him, I must beg to know it now."

Lady Wesley looked unsettled by his request, but she answered as well she could.  "I…that is to say, anything I could do…I would be most happy to help…the Captain in any way within my power."

"Good."  Shawn nodded.  He cast one glance around the deck.  In the distance, two common sailors worked at bringing in the rigging.  They were the only people in sight.  His hand dove beneath the waistcoat of his uniform, and he pulled something out of the inner pocket by his heart.  "If you mean to help, shake my hand," he ordered.

Arching a curious eyebrow, Chloe obediently produced a hand slicked by rain.  Shawn abruptly took it and passed the object into her grasp.  "I believe you mean what you say, Lady Wesley."  He dropped her hand and eyed the foreboding clouds overhead.  "Only a fool or a madman would venture out in a storm like this."

With another significant look, Commodore Brady, the pride of His Majesty's Royal Navy, walked away from his act of treason with his head held high against the beating rain.

~~*~~

Heavy footsteps echoed across the decks above them, marching in military precision.  Rain splattered against the wood and echoed strangely in the darkness of the cramped hold.  Gale-force winds buffeted the _Vengeance, causing it to roll frighteningly over the white-capped waves._

But inside the hold, all was quiet activity.  With no regard for the approaching storm or the soldiers keeping watch above, pirates were lifting boards in the floor, exposing a cavern only the ship's crew knew about.  No word was necessary as weapons were dispersed to each and every man held captive on their own ship.

Jason waited at the foot of the ladder, his eyes never leaving the trapdoor that concealed their rebellion.  He stood poised to give the signal at a moment's notice.  Finally, he heard the slight heave of the planks being put back in position.  He turned as one of the men approached him.

"Here, Jase," Hawk whispered, extending a saber and brace of pistols.

Jason's eyes widened.  He had been surprised and pleased when he came to question the men on their whereabouts during Lord Black's murder to discover they were all involved in hiding the majority of their arsenal in the hold.  The crew had never known of Brady and Jason's momentary hope of being spared through the Viscount's interference and had taken action of their own.  

It was to their credit now.

Jason accepted the proffered weapons.  "Whose are these?" he asked almost inaudibly as he fastened the arms to his side.  As he had been ashore during their storage, Jason's own weapons had all been confiscated by the British soldiers.

Hawk shifted uncomfortably on his feet.  "Kevin's," he muttered finally.

Yet again, Jason struggled to hide his shock.  If these were Kev's, then he had handed them over before the attack on Lord Black.  He would have been unarmed.  That made no sense.  Perhaps he had carried more than one sword.  Many of the men had kept multiple weapons, thus able to hand some over to the soldiers today and leave the rest buried for their use.  

Jason pushed thoughts of Lambert and the murder out of his head.  There would be time to dwell on them later, when he might come to a reasonable conclusion.  For now, he had to keep his wits about him.  The men looked to him as leader with their captain gone.

"Pass the word.  We wait in silence until I give the signal.  If I'm right, these soldiers will quickly get bored of their patrols and sit themselves down to a meal and cards.  That's when we'll attack."

Hawk nodded and began sending the whispered command among the waiting pirates, who promptly settled back to wait.

Jason cast a glance at the one small porthole, where rain was beating down unmercifully.  "Come on, Brady," he urged under his breath.  He would give his friend an hour to find a way back to the _Vengeance_.

They could spare no more.

~~*~~

"So was the _storm _worthy of your attention, Chloe?" Belle spat out as soon as her fiancé and her friend returned to the cabin.

Mimi schooled her face to show no emotion.  Inside, she was as furious as even her mistress could be.  That Belle could be betrayed by the people who were supposed to love her most—and in front of her very face—seemed absolutely unthinkable.

Her mental efforts to vindicate Chloe took another dive as she saw a blush of shame suffuse the brunette's cheeks.  "It…it was…intriguing," she finally responded in a disjointed fashion.

Shawn, however, seemed to have come to his senses.  No sooner had he shut the door upon the raging tempest outside than he flung himself at Belle's feet.  He pressed her limp hand to his lips, and Mimi was pleased to see Belle pull it away.  She would not be easily placated.

"I think you're under a mistaken apprehension, Belle," the Commodore began, frowning at her withdrawal.  "I know my behavior tonight must have seemed inexplicable to you, but I protest, upon my honor, it is not what you think.  I wish I could tell you all, but you will have to trust me."

Belle's eyes softened, and Mimi wondered if sweet words were all it would take to win back her favor after such an affront.  Mimi would not be so easily subdued.  She turned her eyes upon Chloe, who was smiling with some secret delight, despite the fact that she was dripping wet.  She seemed unconscious of having done anything to offend Belle, and her hand kept traveling to the neckline of her bodice.  Mimi frowned.  She had thought Chloe many things, but never fickle.  Nothing made sense today; the world was upside down.

Belle's soft voice brought Mimi's attention back to the lovers.  

"I want to trust you, but your behavior tonight…what was it all about?  Can you give me any explanation for it which is not insulting to me in the highest?"

Her words seemed to bring Chloe back to herself.  She burst out laughing.  "Oh, Belle, you don't think…surely, you can't think that Commodore Brady is interested in me romantically?"

Mimi released a slow breath.  Lady Wesley's honest amusement at the ludicrousness of the idea put everything back to rights.  Chloe wasn't a good enough liar to be capable of deceiving her dearest friend without a blush.

"Then what were you talking about?" Belle demanded, though she too looked rather pacified. 

"What else?  Storms and my improper behavior at dinner," Chloe continued, though Mimi noticed she turned her face to the glass this time.  _Now she was lying._

Belle was not as adept at reading people as her maid, however, and was quite contented.  She returned her hand to Shawn and moved to let him sit beside her on the settee.  Mimi sat quietly attending her needlework while they conversed in lovers' whispers.  

Every few moments, she turned her eyes upon Chloe, who was trying to occupy herself with a book.  The lady did not turn a page in a quarter of an hour.  She was restless.  Her eyes would travel from the window to Belle and Shawn to the clock on the wall, without any regularity.  She would pace about the room, before sitting upon a completely different article of furniture than the one she had left, thus making every chair damp.

Mimi watched this behavior in silence as long as she possibly could, before venturing to comment.  "Would Your Ladyship be more comfortable if you changed out of those wet clothes?  You'll catch a chill if you don't."

Chloe blinked twice at her, with unfeigned bewilderment.  "My clothes?" she repeated dumbly.

Mimi frowned.  She had never seen Chloe in such a state of distraction before.

"Perhaps, Lady Wesley, you would favor us all by reading aloud from that volume?" Commodore Brady interposed smoothly, before anything more could be said.  

Mimi's distress deepened.  There was a secret between those two; one Belle's betrothed was going out of his way to hide.  But why?

"Yes, all right," Chloe answered, though barely seeming to attend him.  She began to read in such a disjointed way that Mimi knew she was not attending to the words coming out of her own mouth.  

Though, the others didn't seem to notice or mind.  Jan had been nodding off ever since supper, and now gave up and began snoring softly in her chair in the corner.  Shawn listened with every appearance of attention, and Belle merely yawned behind her fan until she too was lulled into sleep, her head dropping on Shawn's shoulder.  Mimi felt some of her anger towards the Commodore dissipate as she saw the tender look in his eyes while he wrapped an arm around her mistress.

Belle had not been asleep five minutes before Chloe shut the book and rose, heading towards the door.  

"Lady Wesley!" Shawn reprimanded in a sharp whisper, with a pointed glance in Mimi's direction.

Chloe merely smiled.  "No, no, it's all right," she murmured back.  "Mimi has a sympathy for pirates, too."  With a finger to her lips, imploring Mimi's silence, she slipped out of the cabin, as silently as the sudden gust of wind through the door could allow.

Mimi turned to Shawn for explanation.  He merely shrugged, directed his eyes to Belle slumbering peacefully against him, and shook his head.  The maid sighed and turned back to her work.  She was determined to be awake when Chloe returned, and then, she would force every last secret out of that girl if it took the rest of the night.

~~*~~

Chloe found her progress hampered by the pounding rain.  Her clothes were so weighed down as to make it almost impossible to lift her feet.  Once again, she cursed the fashion that required her to wear thirty pounds of fabric, just to be considered presentable.  At the same time, she was grateful for the overhanging clouds that made sight nearly impossible.  Only an occasional flash of lightning illuminated her as she forced her way across deck to the awaiting ladder.  The crew was also missing, thankfully hiding from this squall.  It seemed Providence had sent the storm for her sake tonight.

Finally, Chloe felt the hatch beneath her fingertips and worked with slippery hands to free the bolt that kept it in place.  It sprung open suddenly revealing a darkened passageway.  She wished momentarily she had brought a lantern with her, then realized she could not have lit it in any case.  She could risk no discovery.

Using only her hands to guide her down passages she had never seen, the lady prayed for direction towards the brig.  Voices ahead caught her attention; she listened for a moment and realized she was nearing crew quarters.  The passageway diverged, and she took the alternate route.  Better not to venture near the men unless she absolutely needed to.  She cursed the sudden freezing of her mind that had kept her from asking Shawn questions when he had given her the key.

Chloe paused again at the end of the hall, listening intently.  She thought she heard the sounds of movement coming from her left and headed that way.  A few steps brought her to a barred door with lamplight glowing behind it.  Her instincts told her she had found her destination.  Deftly, she lifted the bolts and forced her way into the room.

Brady stood in the middle of one cell, staring at her in open-mouthed surprise.  Knowing it wouldn't last long, Chloe shut the door behind her and motioned for him to be quiet.  

"Chloe, what the hell…?" he rasped out, while his eyes devoured her.  "What do you think you're doing here?"

Chloe smiled, her hand reaching to her bodice and producing a large, silver key.  "You could try summoning a bit more civility for your rescuer, you know, Captain," she teased, as she moved towards the cell door.

His hands moved out with lightning speed to grasp hers before she could even put the key in the lock.  Outside, another crash of thunder made the boat shake.  "Chloe, no!  Go put that key back where you found it and pretend you never came here."

It was Chloe's turn to be astonished.  "Are you insane, Brady?  You want to hang, do you?"

"I won't have you implicated in conspiracy with a pirate," he hissed back at her.  "Nor my future brother-in-law, who I suspect gave you that key.  If I hang, so be it.  But if you think I'm about to let you—"

"Damn it, Brady!" Chloe swore.

Her language took him by surprise, and he dropped her hands.  Chloe took advantage of the action to jam the key into the lock.  

"What?  You thought I was too much of a lady to swear?  Considering all you know of me, Captain, that seems rather ridiculous."  The lock gave way, and the door swung open.  

Brady raised an eyebrow, and she could tell he was struggling not to grin at her.  He crossed his arms; his stance determined as he stared her down.  "I'm not leaving.  You might as well lock that door back now."

"I beg to disagree.  You _are leaving.  You think you're the only one who's allowed to be noble and self-sacrificing?  Your hanging does nobody any good.  Not me, not Shawn, not Belle…"  Chloe paused to draw a steadying breath, before she concluded softly.  "Not your father."_

Brady's wince showed the words struck home.  

"Oh Brady," she continued, in an even gentler voice, as she lifted a hand to his face.  "You think I don't know what you're doing?  You think Shawn doesn't know?  But I knew your father, and the absolute last thing he would have wanted was for his son to die without a fight.  He was a strong man, and you're just like him.  If you want to pay tribute to his memory, then _do it_!  By walking out of here a free man."

Brady considered her in silence for a long moment, his eyes raking over her every feature.  Then, with a suddenness that surprised her, his lips were pressed against hers, and Chloe could do nothing but cling and kiss him back with all the passion in her heart.  

He pulled away as suddenly as he had begun, his face still close to hers.  His large, strong hands framed her face, and his blue eyes confronted hers, startling in their rare openness.  "Come with me."

Chloe felt her heart stop at his impassioned plea.  Everything inside of her cried out a _yes_ she knew she could not speak.  Without answer, she kissed him softly, memorizing everything about his lips moving against hers.  Her hands traced along his back, his neck, his hair, his face, silently committing to memory everything about him.  It was a long time—though still, too achingly short—before she pulled away again.

"I can't go," she whispered, pain etched in her face and transferring to his as well.  "I want to; you'll never know how much I want to.  But if I go, then Shawn will have to follow.  The whole Royal Navy will have no mission but to track you down, and all this will be for nothing."

Brady didn't argue.  He pulled her left hand to his face and glared down at the offending piece of jewelry there, before yanking it off and throwing it across the room.  Chloe allowed him to, though she flinched at the echoing noise the diamond made when it struck wood.  Brady jerked her chin up, his eyes demanding her full attention.  "You're _mine_, Chloe.  Wait for me."

Chloe shivered at his air of command.  The words were not a request.  She nodded, her jaw striking against his hand.  "I'll wait.  I'll wait forever if I have to.  But you have to go now, before…"

His lips covered hers once more with overpowering fury, while thunder crashed.  The boat tipped beneath them; the lamp crashed to the floor, covering them in darkness.  Chloe's legs gave out, and Brady caught her against him.  He didn't let go of her arms or her mouth until the ship had righted itself.  

Then, in a flash of lightning, he was gone.

Chloe watched him go, then walked on shaky legs to retrieve her discarded ring.  The diamond seemed to flicker angrily up at her, until she closed it in her palm.  She could not leave it her as evidence, but she would not wear Philip's ring again.

Not ever.

~~*~~

Raucous laughter drifted down below decks.  The soldiers were evidently off their guard as they sat around, drinking the _Vengeance's rum, and eating their food, and generally doing all in their power to make the confined pirates loathe them more than ever._

Jason saw that hatred mirrored on the face of every man around him.  Swords gleamed against the darkness, and he knew it would take all his commanding presence to keep blood from being shed tonight.

"Let's not forget," he whispered to the cluster of angry men around him, "that these are still English sailors.  We don't kill Englishmen.  The first man to wield his sword or fire his pistol shall have me to answer to."

Half-hearted assent met his order, but Jason had faith in his men.  They knew he could lead them to freedom without firing a shot.  

With one last glance around, Jason led the way through a concealed trapdoor and had arrived soundlessly at the door of the Captain's cabin before the soldiers knew they had left the hold.

There was no hiding their attack once they forced open the doorway, but by then, it hardly mattered.  A dozen of His Majesty's finest were sloppily half-standing, their hands on their scabbards, while the table was littered with food, drink, and cards.  On the other side of this encounter were thirty ferocious pirates, their cutlasses exposed, their pistols aiming at the sailors' hearts.

Jason lifted an eyebrow, smirking.  "Well, gentlemen, I believe we've interrupted your game.  We'll remember to send the cards with you, though I imagine they'll get a bit damp tonight."

Laughter echoed round the room, while the naval men blanched.  At a nod from Jason, pirates hurried to escort the usurpers top side.  The downpour made all the shouts of the soldiers go unheard, and they were slipping across the deck in well-made boots, while barefoot brigands marched across the sloping, wet surface without a stumble.  

Jason saw them stripped of all their weapons and settled into the longboat.  With a sudden stroke of brilliance, he removed the oars, sparing the men an apologetic smile.  "I'm afraid we're going to be needing those."

"For what?" shot out one of the braver and less intoxicated of the lot.

"Well, for throwing at you if you try to board the _Miranda_ before we've sailed away, I imagine," Jason returned guilelessly to the snickers of the surrounding pirates.  "Have a nice trip."

A nod to Hawk and the ropes were released—none too slowly, it must be admitted—which sent the longboat tumbling into the raging sea.  Jason flicked the deck of cards down after them, and a rousing cheer went up from the men.  

"Enough!" Jason barked.  "I want us sailing out of port in twenty minutes, no more.  Release the sails, lift the anchor.  Come on!  Move!"

A flurry of bustle and scurry met the first mate's commands, and Jason was left to watch alone the soldiers' lack of progress towards their own ship.  A sudden distinct movement to the waves near them caught his attention, and minutes later, he was grinning as he helped his best friend up over the rails.  

"I was afraid for a moment you wouldn't make it, Captain," he remarked pleasantly, as Brady spit up the water he'd swallowed in his swim.

Brady straightened, grinning.  "What?  You doubted me?" 

Jason returned the smile.  "Forgive me.  It won't happen again.  I expect you'll be wanting the wheel then, Captain?"

Brady's eyes flickered to the helm with something like affection.  Jason knew the feeling.  They'd been handing over the duties of the ship for far too long.  He followed his mate's progress to the wheel, while the other men shouted greetings towards their captain.  

"What's the plan now, Brady?" Jason asked, as Brady took his place by the ship's wheel.  

Brady turned towards him, and a sudden strike of lightning lit his face with an almost inhuman gleam.  "What is it always?  It's time to wreak vengeance."

Jason felt a shudder go down his spine, and his hand reached unconsciously for his sword.  Brady's father was dead.  Before the night was out, Jason knew blood would be shed to compensate.  Spanish blood.  He could already feel the blood lust settling upon him.  

Under the direction of a madman, the _Vengeance_ sailed from port.

On the deck of the _Miranda_, a lone man and two women watched silently as it glided away.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Moonlight on the Caribbean

A/N:  For the record, unless explicitly stated, there is no relationship between characters in this story, just because they're related on Days.  For instance, Austin Reed, Lucas Roberts, and Philip Kiriakis all have roles of various importance throughout this fic; they are not in any way related or even known to each other (except as occurs in various parts of the fic).  Also, I gave Rex the last name Evans because at the time I wrote him into the story, he was assumed to be Marlena and Tony's son, and DiMera is not an English name, but even then, I was not writing him as Evans as Marlena's son.  It's just a name; he's no relation to Belle.  That would be just icky.  

Also, this chapter marks the first of a few crossover appearances by characters from the movie "Pirates of the Caribbean."  (Sorry, couldn't resist.)  This chapter will still make perfect sense if you haven't seen the movie, and I don't believe it spoils anything important for the movie if you read this first.  (Though maybe a bit.)  Future chapters will probably contain more spoilers for PotC, but my story will always make sense even if you haven't seen the movie.  (But you should still watch it anyway, because it's FANTASTIC!)

**Chapter Nineteen**

Violent storms had kept the H.M.S. _Miranda_ anchored off the small, uncharted island for nearly two weeks, before they were finally able to set sail for Jamaica.  They hastened there at all possible speed, as Commodore Brady was eager to reach Port Royal before the hurricane season truly began.  And after another fortnight of continual travel, Mimi was able to trace in the distant horizon the island they had set out for so many months ago.

"Is it really Jamaica?" Belle asked eagerly, shading her eyes against the mid-afternoon sun.  She leaned precariously over the rail, as if she could somehow urge the boat to land faster.  

Mimi nearly smiled.  It was the happiest she had seen her mistress in months.  The sea had never agreed with Lady Black, and she had made no secret of her haste to leave it behind forever.

"It is indeed, m'lady," came the answer from the stalwart sailor by her side.  "We should be able to dock at Port Royal with the tide."

Mimi carefully schooled her expression into indifference, both at the message and the man who gave it.  Lieutenant Evans had rarely left Belle's presence since their first night aboard.  He seemed to think Shawn's negligence of his fiancé and attentiveness to Chloe that night had opened the door for his own attentions to Belle.  Mimi supposed she could not really find fault with Rex for his infatuation with her mistress; who could help loving Belle?  And he didn't know the true cause for Shawn's behavior that evening.  It was a secret confined only to herself, Commodore Brady, and Lady Wesley.  

If she closed her eyes, Mimi thought she could almost catch again that last glimpse of Jason as the _Vengeance_ sailed away, his wet, wild hair illuminated by a flash of lightning as he stood at the helm next to his cabin.  It might be the last sight of him she ever had.  She sighed unknowingly at the thought.

Belle heard the sound, however, and whirled around to face her maid.  "Isn't it wonderful, Mimi?" she prompted ecstatically.  "We'll be on land again.  Real, solid _land."  She spoke the last word like heaven itself could offer her no greater joy.  Her face was red, whether from excitement or too much exposure to the sun, Mimi was unsure.  The maid was positive, though, that Belle was sweltering in the black mourning dress.  Lady Black refused to wear anything else; she would continue to grieve, she said, until her wedding day._

Mimi forced a smile for Belle's sake, though it did not reach her eyes.  "I'm pleased for you, my lady."

Belle's gentle blue eyes searched her face with compassion.  "But not for yourself?"

Mimi winced at the sympathy.  It was worse than anything else.  Belle, who had lost so much on this voyage, was feeling sorry for _her.  The thought was unacceptable; it made Mimi pull herself together as nothing else could have done.  "Of course I'm happy, m'lady.  It's been a long time since I've felt grass beneath my feet."_

"Well, you won't find much of that in Port Royal either, I'm afraid," interposed Rex.  "Cobblestones and dirty streets, rather.  But that's all right.  You won't be there long.  Philip Kiriakis will be waiting at the docks to escort you to Titan plantation."

"Oh, how can you be so sure?" Belle asked, with innocent curiosity.

"Commodore Brady sent a boat ahead last night with a message to be dispatched to Titan.  Port Royal is no fit place for ladies of your stature, and I'm sure it will be a relief for Mr. Kiriakis to be reunited with his fiancé after all this time."  Rex made a face to show how disagreeable he himself would find Chloe Wesley as his future wife; the two had not made friends since their argument the first night—especially considering the sailor blamed Chloe for Blackheart's escape, though silently, as he had no proof.

Mimi knew all this, but her grimace was for quite a different reason.  Whatever Philip Kiriakis's eagerness to see his betrothed might be, she knew nothing would upset Chloe more.  Chloe had been surprisingly placid for the last month, staying in the cabin as much as possible, claiming indisposition.  Mimi believed, however, that her sudden illness was merely heart-sickness over her impending marriage to a man she could not love.  Mimi pitied her and was glad that with all the burdens she had to bear, a situation like Chloe's was not one of them.  

Similar thoughts might have been running through Belle's head, for her reply to Rex's polite words was rather hesitant.  "Yes, well, I shall be glad to see a familiar face again."

"I trust you have not had a disagreeable time on board the _Miranda, my lady," Rex interjected quickly, with an earnest look at the petite blonde that would have shown to anyone less innocent than Lady Black how much his heart was involved in pleasing her._

"Oh, no!  I mean, it's been wonderful, or it would have been except…"  Belle plucked at the heavy black sleeve of her gown and looked away, unable to finish her sentence.

Evans clasped her hand and bowed over it.  "Your loss will not go unavenged, my lady.  The whole of His Majesty's Royal Navy will soon be involved in hunting down the infamous pirates who committed this dastardly act."

Mimi's blood boiled at the lieutenant's officious gallantry.  The sentiment disturbed her, for she feared for Jason's safety—despite the fact that he'd proven himself more than capable of slipping through the hands of the law.  More than that, Rex's courtesy towards her mistress intruded on what was reserved only for Commodore Brady.  Since his loyalty towards the captain and crew of the _Vengeance had become known to her, Mimi liked Belle's husband-to-be more than ever._

"A bit over-eager, aren't we there, Evans?" spoke up a most welcome voice.

Two sweet, feminine smiles were instantly the possession of Shawn Brady upon his approaching the small group, and Rex reluctantly relinquished his hold on Belle's hand.  

He saluted his commanding officer.  "Commodore, I apologize.  I was simply informing Lady Black of your intention to report to Commodore Norrington as soon as we come ashore."

Commodore Brady fidgeted, and Mimi hoped she was the only one how realized how guilty he looked.  "Of course.  It's standard procedure after any mission."

"You mean you won't be coming with us to Titan?" Belle pouted up at him.

Shawn squeezed her hand as he pulled her closer to his side.  "I wish I could, my love.  I am not yet released from my duties and don't know when I will be.  Commodore Norrington is the ranking officer in the Caribbean, and it is up to him whether or not to grant me leave.  I'll be with you as quickly as possible, I swear it."

Belle sighed, and Mimi knew how deep her disappointment ran.  Shawn was Belle's last stalwart defender, after the loss of her father and—Mimi thought, though she did not say—Captain Blackheart as well.

But once again, Belle relied on that strength everyone had thought she lacked to keep from showing anything more than passing regret.  "Well, you must tell this Commodore that you have a fiancé who is waiting to be a wife, and he must not delay you from her long."

"I hardly needed that reminder, Belle," Shawn murmured, bending his face lower over hers.

Belle was standing on tiptoes, ready to be kissed, when she realized they were still surrounded by an audience.  She backed away, clearing her throat and looking pointedly at the two onlookers.  Mimi was amused, even more so when she saw the disgruntled look on Rex Evans' face, but she could not leave until her mistress sent her away.

Shawn knew the protocol as well.  He straightened to attention and turned to his first mate.  "Lieutenant, see that everything is ready for our anchorage in Port Royal."

"Aye aye, Sir," Rex saluted and turned crisply away.

"Mimi, I think you should probably go check on Lady Wesley.  She was still feeling ill this morning.  Perhaps learning that Mr. Kiriakis is awaiting our arrival will improve her condition." 

Mimi heard the message between Belle's words.  She was to warn Chloe of her awaiting fiancé, so that she would have time to prepare herself for the unpleasant reality to come.  Mimi thought Shawn was aware of how things stood as well.  The look on his face was distinctly sympathetic.

Mimi nodded and curtseyed as she was dismissed.  She felt no qualms about leaving Belle and Shawn alone together.  They were both of them too honorable for it to be improper, and it pleased her that Belle should finally have some share of happiness and love.  It appeared Chloe and Mimi's time had been and gone.  Mimi cast one last glance over her shoulder and saw Shawn's head bending down once again towards Belle, saw him whisper something in her ear that made a soft smile cross her face.  

Feeling strangely contented with the sight, Mimi proceeded to the cabin…where quite a different view met her eyes.

"My lady!" she exclaimed, rushing to Chloe's bedside.  She held back the long, dark tresses and patted Chloe's back while the other girl retched into a chamberpot.  

Until this moment, Mimi had never realized how truly ill Lady Wesley was.  She hid it well, but Mimi could see that this last month had been hell on her friend's body.  She was thin and pale; there were frightening dark circles beneath her eyes.

This was more than mere heartbreak.

"Chloe, what's wrong?" Mimi asked, as Chloe finally lay back, exhausted, against the pillows.  She placed a hand to the lady's forehead and found it hot with perspiration.  "How long have you been ill?"

Chloe batted her hand away.  "It's nothing, Mimi.  A little seasickness, that's all.  It will pass."

"You've never been seasick a day in your life, my lady.  What ails you?"

Chloe's bitter laughter echoed around the tiny cabin.  "Who knows?  God's punishment for my sins perhaps.  Or maybe I was bitten by one of those wretched insects on the islands."

Mimi shivered at Chloe's cool, careless tone.  Was she so cavalier about life and death?  "We shall dock in Port Royal tonight, my lady.  I'm sure a physician can be sent for then."

Chloe's expression softened a bit as she gazed into Mimi's worried face.  She took the maid's hand in hers and pressed it.  "Don't fret so, Mimi.  I was only teasing.  I imagine I caught a cold from being out in the rain so long."

"But you will see a doctor?" Mimi pressed.

"If I don't improve within a few days, you may feel free to call in all the specialists Jamaica may hold," Chloe teased, with a shadow of her formerly joyous spirit.  "But I'm convinced there will be no need.  A day or two will set me to rights."

Mimi was not quite satisfied but allowed the subject to drop.  She still had not delivered the bad news.  "Lady Wesley, I must tell you something."

"What is it?"  Chloe struggled to sit up, her eyes widening in panic.  "Is it Brady?  Have they caught him?"

"Brady?  Who?"  Mimi frowned, her eyebrows coming together in concentration.  Chloe's look of horror increased, her hands coming to rest on her mouth, as though she had told some life-threatening secret.  "Brady…Captain Blackheart.  Is that his name?  Brady Blackheart."  Mimi's eyes bulged, and her jaw dropped as sudden comprehension descended on her.  "Brady Black.  The captain was Brady Black?  All this time, he's Belle's _brother!_" 

Mimi was nearly screaming by the end of her outburst, and Chloe caught hold of her arm, sharp nails digging into her skin.  "You can't say a word, Mimi, not one word.  Not to Belle, or anyone," she hissed.

"Why not?  Surely Belle has more right than anyone to know.  Her brother's alive, Chloe!"

"For now," Chloe pointed out with quiet sincerity.

The full gravity of the situation caught Mimi in those two small words spoken by the woman who loved him.  She understood all without needing an explanation, and she pitied them all more than ever.  "I won't say a word; I swear it," she promised.  "You can depend on me."

A smile flitted momentarily across Chloe's face.  "Don't I always?"

Mimi returned the gesture with a grin of her own, which quickly faded.  "Yes.  And don't worry, I'm not here about the Captain or the _Vengeance_.  It's about what's waiting for us on shore.  Or rather who…"

Chloe sighed, sinking back into lethargy.  "Philip," she responded with certainty.  

Mimi was shocked at how indifferent she sounded, then she looked down at Chloe's bare hand.  Hope rose within her.  "You shan't marry him, my lady?"

Lady Wesley shook her head emphatically.  "Not if my life depended on it."

Mimi opened her mouth to reply, but before another word could pass between them, Jan Spears skipped lightly into the room, putting an end to all further conversation.  

~~*~~

Chloe made herself rise to see the entrance into Port Royal.  She felt ill; every step was a challenge not to vomit, but she kept herself together.  She was going to stand tall, with her head held high, as she faced down Philip Kiriakis and threw his cursed ring back in his face.  She wasn't sure what she was going to do after that.  She had no place to go, no plausible excuse for staying in Jamaica, but she knew she had to stay here, and she could not marry Philip.

She had promised to wait for Brady.

Her stomach lurched again inside her, and her hand went to her belly.  What was this strange disease that was taking over her body?  Her words to Mimi had been flippant, but in truth, she half-believed she was facing the wrath of the Almighty for her immorality.  

Chloe forced herself to think on something else.  Her eyes struggled to make out distinct shapes in the dim twilight.  She thought she caught sight of women strolling along the docks, joined by men on every side.  Even from this distance, uproarious, drunken laughter echoed throughout the streets, along with the occasional bang of a gunshot.  

The lady shivered.  Now she knew why her parents had always kept her far away from certain sections of London after dark.  And London had nothing on Port Royal, home of pirates, buccaneers, and murderers of all shapes and sizes.

"There's no reason to fear, Lady Wesley."  

She jumped, not realizing that Commodore Brady had escorted Belle to the rail as well, Mimi and Jan trailing after them.  

"I'm not afraid," Chloe protested, though her quavering voice belied her.

Shawn laughed.  "You would be stupid if you were not a bit on edge, Lady Wesley, and I know you are an intelligent woman.  Port Royal is no place for a lady.  But you shall be escorted directly from the _Miranda _to the custody of your fiancé, and from there to the absolute safety of Titan sugarcane plantation."

Chloe felt there was some warning meant directly for her in those words.  Shawn was telling her not to fight this, to go placidly.  _Port Royal__ is no place for a lady.  He was probably right, and for once, she felt no desire to rebel against male authority.  If she defied Philip now and was left to her own protection in a pirate town, there was no telling what would become of her.  She might even sink as low as the women selling themselves on the docks._

No, Shawn was right.  She had to be smart about this.  She would not marry Philip, but tonight was not the time to let him know this.  In the darkness, no one could see her reach into the pocket of her gown and fumble for the diamond ring she had intended to present her fiancé with upon arrival.  She felt it slip onto her ring finger, left hand and winced as a wave of betrayal hit her.

_It doesn't mean anything,_ she assured herself.  _I won't marry him.  I'll wait for Brady._

But surely it was better to wait for Brady from the security of a country mansion than from a city full of corruption and vice.  Her conscience only partially soothed by this resolution, Chloe allowed Shawn to help her down into the boat which would take the ladies and their escorts to shore.

As promised, Philip was waiting for them the moment the boat touched the dock.  His eyes eagerly skimmed over all the people present, settling for a moment with fond satisfaction on Chloe, before moving on.  "Where is Lord Black?" he demanded of Shawn as the Commodore stepped out to assist the ladies.

Shawn winced and then scowled, and Chloe silently though less publicly agreed with him.  

But it was Belle who responded.  "He's dead," she said quietly but firmly, as Shawn put her ashore.  She wavered for a moment in his arms, and Chloe wasn't sure whether it was from the feeling of being on land or from the pain of the admission.  Shawn, however, quickly put her to rights.

"Dead?  Dead!?" Philip repeated shrilly, the sound grating on the ears of all present.  "How?  It was that pirate Blackheart, wasn't it?  I told you," sticking his finger threateningly in Shawn's face, "I told you all this catering to pirates would end in something like this.  And where is the scoundrel?  Have you caught him yet?"

"He got away," Shawn managed through gritted teeth.  Chloe averted her gaze, so no one would see her smile.  No one listening would realize that Shawn's anger was directed at Philip and not at the pirate's escape.  No one, that is, except the one who had helped him do it.

"What a surprise."  Philip's cultured tones reeked of disdain.  "Yet again, we see the utter inadequacy of the British Royal Navy."

Chloe felt called upon to interfere, which she did as soon as Shawn had placed her feet upon the dock.  "Good evening, Mr. Kiriakis," she said smoothly, knowing any greeting from her would quickly distract him from his irritation with the Commodore.

In seconds, Philip's demeanor had become one of ingratiating attention.  "Lady Chloe," he murmured, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips with offensive gallantry.

Chloe resisted the urge to snatch her hand away and accepted the gesture with tolerable calm.  A gaze over Philip's shoulder at Shawn, who nodded encouragement, helped tremendously.  She liked the Commodore more every day; she imagined he was rather like an older brother would have been, if she'd ever had siblings.

"Welcome to Jamaica, my love," Philip continued, standing tall again.

At that precise moment, one of the doxies on the corner shrieked with laughter and yelled out a proposition that made the cheeks of all four women redden.  

"I think it would be wisest if you took the ladies to Titan immediately," Shawn spoke over the noise, as he handed Jan—the last of the women—onto the dock.

Philip's eyes flickered over to them.  "Yes, I think that might be for the best.  The carriage awaits.  M'lady…"  He held his arm out for Chloe to receive it.

Chloe wished no further scenes.  Her stomach was churning again, and the sooner she was out of Philip's presence and asleep in a warm, soft bed the better.  She took his arm and led the way to the carriage, Mimi and Jan at her heels.  

Belle lingered behind with Shawn to say her temporary farewells.  No one begrudged her them, even when the carriage was forced to wait a quarter of an hour.

~~*~~

Commodore Norrington stared back impassively at the two men still standing at attention before him.  He was by nature a cold man; one of those diffident fellows that characterized the personality of an entire class of English gentlemen.  He had few friends, no family to speak of, and many doubted whether he even had a first name.  He had made one foray into romance rather late in life and was not so pleased with the result as to attempt it again.  He liked to think of himself as a self-made man.  Though a legacy left to him by his grandfather had allowed him to purchase his original commission, he had worked his way through the ranks through hard work, skill, and years of faithful service and devotion to the law.  

Perhaps all of those reasons attributed to his hatred for the young Commodore before him.  No one could have presented a more galling contrast to himself than Shawn Douglas Brady.  He knew enough of the officer's history to be aware that he had a wealthy, loving family in England—one too which had a long tradition of service in the armed forces—who had purchased him a rank which had taken Norrington a decade to achieve.  Brady was a favorite among the officers and men, as well as the families of the Jamaican planters, who never hesitated to give him the invitations which Norrington secretly pined for.  He was an upstart, pretentious child who never hesitated to give an opinion, no matter how unqualified it was.  More than that, he was rash, and Norrington hated rashness above all else.  And his latest iniquity involved the acquisition of a pretty young fiancé who supposedly loved him deeply.

All of this was reason enough, in Norrington's opinion, to justify hating him.

Therefore, his joy at hearing Shawn Brady had allowed the pirate Blackheart to slip through his fingers was not to be described, though it took the form of severe reprimand.  "He escaped?  You had him in the brig, to which you alone had the key, and he escaped?  Would you mind telling me, Commodore, how this is possible?"

Shawn did not even flinch.  His eyes remained coolly aloof, as he answered the charge.  "I don't know, sir.  They do say the _Vengeance _is impossible to catch; I would assume this applied to its captain as well."

"No pirate is that illusive," Norrington snapped.

"Really?"  Shawn arched an eyebrow and looked at him in that impertinent manner which Norrington loathed so much.  "Has Captain Sparrow been caught in my absence, sir?"

Norrington got to his feet with an abrupt stomp.  "My conduct is not under discussion here, Mr. Brady.  Yours is.  I shall expect full statements from all the men on your crew before the end of the week.  You can be fully assured that my report on this matter will be given to the governor, along with my recommendation for your immediate removal from command, if I find anything to justify my belief that your negligence was responsible for this entire fiasco."

Shawn's stoic expression did not crack.  He merely bowed his acquiescence.  "Myself and my men are entirely at your disposal, Commodore."

"Very well," Norrington returned coldly.  "You are dismissed."

"Aye, aye, sir."  Commodore Brady saluted his superior and left the office.

Lieutenant Evans appeared ready to do the same, when a command from Norrington stopped him.  "Yes, Commodore?"

"I'll take your account of the capture and escape now."  Norrington was unsure what his opinion was on Brady's second in command.  He had never had much call for interaction with him before, but he was willing to give the boy the benefit of the doubt.  Norrington was, after all, a fair man.

Rex hesitated momentarily, indecisive about whether to support his captain or not.

"Speak out, Lieutenant," Norrington ordered.  "You need have no fear of repercussions from me.  Was Commodore Brady's account accurate or was it not?"

"I have no reason to believe it anything but, sir," the officer returned, all affronted pride.  "Commodore Brady has given you his word, and there is no reason to distrust the pledge of a man of honor."

Norrington felt the familiar bile rising in the back of his throat.  Of course, Rex's loyalty would lie with Shawn.  Everyone's always did.  "Then why did you waver a moment ago?"

"Not for that reason, Commodore.  There was one aboard the _Miranda _that night whose actions I find suspect, but I cannot abide to accuse without proof."

"What would lead you to suspect them then, if you have no proof?"

Rex pondered this, before deciding to confess.  "I was told that one of the ladies we took aboard with us had developed—shall we say—an affinity for the pirates while they were being held captive.  I am loath against making an allegation of dishonor against a lady, but at the same time—"

Norrington cut him off with a sadistic smile and a comment to match.  "Since when is there honor among ladies, Lieutenant?"

"Sir?" Evans asked, his brow creasing in confusion.

Norrington was not about to explain himself.  He waved the observation away.  "Never mind.  Continue, Lieutenant."

"At the same time, I think it would be a misapplication of resources to question the men and take them away from their duties, when the answer may lie outside the reach of military justice."

Norrington sighed.  If this was true, Shawn Brady had outwitted him once again.

~~*~~

Titan Sugar Plantation seemed a different world to Mimi from any she had yet been in.  It held no resemblance to the harbor town she had been born in, to the docks of Port Royal which had appeared sadly familiar to her.  Neither was it comparable to the old grandeur of the Black estate in Kent.  This place was made ostentatious with all the bad taste of new money, while at the same time habitable by the bustling activity of proprietorship.

No thick damask curtains surrounded the beds of the ladies, but thin mosquito netting as a shield against the prevalent insects.  French doors led to balconies and terraces from almost every room.  They were left open at night, to allow cooling breezes through the house, which would otherwise become stifling during the hot Jamaican days.  Wind whistled through the fields of sugarcane visible from the windows; they seemed never ending, except for the road which cut directly through the middle of the plantation.

The slave huts were kept far out of sight of ladies' windows.  It would not be thought proper for them to see the labor that made all this wealth possible.  Mimi had seen them though, as she made her way to servants' quarters towards the back of the house, once Belle and Chloe were finally settled in their own rooms.  It had made her blood boil to observe the shabby, inhumane conditions, and she knew that if Belle stayed here any length of time, she would put a stop to such treatment.

That thought gave Mimi the only hint of satisfaction she'd had since arriving here.  Philip's servants were haughty; Jan Spears was more insufferably superior than ever.  Philip himself was obsequious and loathsome.  Belle was still grieving the loss of her father, added to the new misery of losing Shawn's presence, and had no heart for her new surroundings.  Chloe was ill and irritable.

And Mimi could not sleep.

She never could accustom herself to a new place overnight, and the unhappiness of herself and those around her only made it more unlikely she would rest well this evening.  Exploring the premises would be a much better use of her time, she decided.

Pulling on a dressing gown and lighting her candle, Mimi trudged back up the stairs from her small maid's quarters.  She would avoid the occupied bedrooms, of course, but there was a whole wing of the house she knew to be empty.  Philip had not even preformed the civility of giving his guests a tour of the house.  They had all arrived from Port Royal in time for a late supper and were then ushered directly to bed.

Mimi made her way through a drawing room, a billiard parlor, a library, a small hallway used as an art gallery, and several empty yet well-aired bedrooms.  She spent several minutes in a conservatory lovelier than the rest of the house put together.  It was filled with several of the exotic plants she had fallen in love with on the islands Jason had taken her to, and it had a gorgeous view of a small lake behind the house.

Mimi was still lingering in the peace of that place when she heard footsteps approaching.  Unwilling to be caught, when she knew she had no excuse for her midnight stroll, she blew out her candle and hurried through a small door she saw on her left.  She could not latch the door for fear of noise, but only a flicker of moonlight passed through the crack.  There were no windows in this room, and as she felt her way around it, she realized it was a storage closet.

Fear rose and nearly choked her.  Mimi didn't like close, confined spaces, especially closets.  It was related, she was sure, to her time spent locked inside one while her mother's "guests" were visiting.  She was willing to brave exposure rather than be stuck in here and had half-opened the door to make a dash for it, when a flash of dark curls stopped her.

What was Jan doing here at this time of night?

Jan Spears had obviously not spotted Mimi's hiding place, however.  She was across the room and looked out over the lake with an expression on her face that Mimi had never seen before—not on that woman at any rate.  Jan looked…peaceful, content, _happy_.

_Well, of course she's happy, you dolt_, Mimi reminded herself silently.  _This is her home. _

It suddenly struck Mimi how little she knew of the other maid.  She didn't even know where the girl came from, or how long she had been in Philip's employ.  All she really knew was that she didn't trust her anymore now than she had the day she met her.

More footsteps sounded down the corridor.  Jan turned at the noise, but she did not seem frightened as Mimi had been; her whole face had lit up with a kind of anticipatory joy.  A shadow darkened the room.  Mimi wished she could see who it was.

"_Juana."  _

The word was a breath, a prayer, spoken with a depth of feeling that was a far cry from the show of affection he made for his fiancé.  Mimi watched in silent amazement as Philip Kiriakis descended the two steps into the isolated room and wrapped his arms around Jan's waist, pulling her so tightly Mimi wondered how she could even breathe.  But breathing did not seem to be Jan's primary concern at the moment.  Her own hands were burying themselves deep into Philip's blonde hair, and then their lips met in a kiss so intense and intimate Mimi felt compelled to look away.

For a long time, there was no sound but that of the lovers' reunion.  Mimi's fear rose again, along with a wave of nausea.  She knew too well what their embraces could lead to; the sounds of it still echoed in her nightmares.  

But finally, she heard Philip's voice again, breathless and hoarse though it was.  "I was so worried about you.  I nearly went out of my head."

"Why, Philip?"  Jan's voice had a light, teasing note to it as she inclined her head towards him.  Mimi thought she seemed almost pleasant when she spoke like this; it was amazing the change love could make in a woman.  "Did you think I wouldn't be able to handle a few pirates?"

"It's not funny, _Juana_.  If you had seen me the day the _Dolphin came into port.  Shawn was there, and I thought he would realize it couldn't be Chloe I was so worried about, but luckily, he's dense enough to believe anything."_

"Ah yes, sweet, innocent Chloe…"  Jan's voice had deepened once again into that hateful tone Mimi recognized, and Mimi was restored to all the pleasure of her original dislike.  "I imagine you'll want to hear all about her actions on the voyage hither."

"Damn Chloe!" Philip exclaimed.  "I want to talk about you."

Jan clucked her tongue reproachfully.  "For shame, _querido_, to speak of your intended that way."

"_Juana, we've talked about this before.  I have to—"_

"Yes, yes, so you say," the woman snapped.

"So I'm ordered," he corrected.  "And you, of all people, know about following orders.  I can't believe that you were able to complete your assignment."

"Shh!" Jan hissed, looking anxiously around her.  Mimi shrunk back into the shadows of the closet.  "Even here, it is not safe to speak of that."

"Then why did you ask me to meet you here?  We'd have all the privacy we need in my bedchamber."  Philip leaned down to press his lips to the long, graceful throat.

"I can't be seen leaving your room; you know that as well as I.  Besides, I've always liked this place.  Your horrible decorating skills haven't reached here, though I suppose your _wife _will remedy all that after the wedding."

Philip groaned.  "Are you still upset about that?"

"Upset that my lover is going to marry another woman?" Jan mocked.  "Now why should that upset me?"

"_Juana…" he pleaded._

Inside the closet, Mimi frowned.  Why did he keep calling her that?  Was it a sweetheart's endearment?  She had never heard one like it.

"Of course, it might interest you to know that your lady is not nearly as pure as she was when you left her."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Jealous, Philip?"  There was definite venom in the maiden's tone now.  "Would it bother you to learn that your bride to be is not exactly eligible to wear the virgin white?"

"Chloe Wesley has given herself to someone?"  Far from being jealous, Philip sounded only slightly curious and disbelieving.  "I won't believe it.  She has too much pride in her to give herself to any man.  Or was she raped aboard that pirate ship?"  Mimi shuddered at the amusement with which he asked his last question.

Jan chuckled.  "You underestimate her, Philip.  Or overestimate her, perhaps.  She had not been on the ship more than a week before she was simpering up at that pirate captain."

"Is that so?" Philip mused.  "So Lady Wesley is a pirate's wench, eh?  That might come in handy one of these days."

Mimi frowned.  This conversation had moved from disquieting to impenetrable.

"Not just any pirate, _querido_, one with a most unique history.  It turns out the infamous Captain Blackheart is no less than the long lost son of Lord Black."

Mimi's jaw dropped.  Had Jan been listening in to her conversation with Chloe after all?  
  


"What?  That's impossible!  How do you know that?"

"I overheard the Captain himself tell one of the other pirates.  I found out much interesting information aboard that ship.  My time was not wasted at all."  Jan laughed again, this time low and insinuating.

Philip caught something in that laugh that would have entirely escaped Mimi, who was less attune to the woman's ways.  "Did you befriend any particular pirates?" he demanded, spitting out the last word.  If he hadn't seemed jealous at the mention of his fiancé giving her virtue to another man, he was absolutely enraged at the thought of his mistress cavorting with anyone but him.

"If I did, it was all in the name of duty, isn't that right, _querido?"  That strange word had another sound this time than it had previously.  It was like poison.  "Like your marriage?"_

Jan turned a vicious look on her partner, before whirling out of his arms and heading towards the door.  He caught her wrist before she had taken more than two steps, and she cried out at the pain.  But her cries were silenced as Philip's lips descended on hers with painful possessiveness.  Mimi wanted to avert her eyes again, but something about the scene held her entranced; she had never seen a passion as dark as this—not even Chloe's and the captain's.

It wasn't long before Jan was making an altogether different kind of cry.

Mimi sunk onto the floor of the closet and placed her hands against her ears, rocking back and forth, waiting like she used to for the noises to end.

~~*~~

Something had been pulling at Jason for weeks.  He had tried to put it out of his head, as they all worked night and day to keep the _Vengeance _afloat in the midst of the first hurricane of the season.  He had nearly forgotten it once they braved the storm and went back to the business of piracy.  They had been at sea for months without attacking a single galleon, and they had debts to settle.

Jason rather believed that Lord Black's death had driven Brady half out of his wits.  But with that insanity came a revived passion for the spilling of blood.  Jason wasn't even sure whether his captain's vengeance was directed at Spain any more.  It might have been at the whole world.  It might have been merely himself he hated.  Whatever the cause, the consequence was swift and deadly.

Three galleons had been taken, and the _Vengeance _now rode low in the water, its hull full of Peruvian silver and Spanish jewels.  Jason wondered if he was the only one who thought about the hundred men sunk beneath the unfathomable seas of the Caribbean, never to rise again.  

Brady certainly didn't seem to care; the guilt that used to pull him into a depression for days after an attack was nowhere to be found now.  He didn't even appear to grieve his father.  He walked the decks of his ship, stoic, indifferent, and grim.  _Murderous, Jason decided with a shudder.  He had a feeling Brady's new personality would not vanish until he had sunk his blade deep in the heart of his father's killer._

In the meantime, anyone breathing would do for practice.

So Jason had been given much to think of, and it was no wonder his unformed, unsettled notions had been pushed to the back of his brain for so long.  It was only now, as the _Vengeance made its way back to the infamous island of Tortuga to empty its hold and anchor for the duration of the hurricane season, that he was able to place the source of his discontent._

It had all began with a comment made by Hawk the night they took back the _Vengeance.  To Hawk, he now went._

"When did Kevin give you his weapons?" Jason demanded as soon as he had taken the sailor to his private cabin.

Hawk seemed rather afraid of Jason's questions and his abrupt manner.  "I didn't lie to ye, Masters.  No one saw Kevin all the day, if that's what you're askin'."

"It's not," Jason returned shortly.  He wasn't about to explain himself to a common sailor; it was much faster merely to demand answers from one obligated to give them.  "I want to know when Kevin Lambert gave you his weapons."

"It were the night afore we hid 'em.  I told him we was goin' to, in case the ship was taken.  Beg pardon, Jase, but it didn't seem like ye and Cap'n was doing much to avoid it."

"Yes, yes.  I've told you, you did right.  What I want to know is, did Kevin hand over all his weapons to you?"

Hawk scratched his head, and Jason decided it was best not to tell him how much he looked like a monkey.  "Aye, he did.  He handed over his two swords and his pistols all.  He was right put out about bein' made governess to a lord, as he said.  He said he'd like to see his weapons put to good use at least.  Why're ye askin', Masters?"

"Because," said Jason slowly, drawing out the words as he came to the conclusion building in him for a month, "if Kevin had no weapons with him, how could he kill Lord Black?"

Hawk considered this question for a moment, before coming to the next logical assumption.  "Lord Black had a sword, didn't he?  What happened to it?"

Jason frowned, trying to remember.  They had taken it from him when he came on board, but it had been given back the night they attacked the prison ship.  Lord Black had offered it back to Brady the next day, but Brady had told him to keep it.  So where was it now?  

"I suppose Kevin could have taken it with him when he abandoned ship," Jason mused, more to himself than to Hawk.  The faint hope of finding his old friend innocent was failing.  

"It might still be in the brig though, mightn't it?" Hawk suggested.

Jason glanced across at the pirate then, his green eyes piercingly bright.  "Didn't you clear the brig when you were searching for Kevin?"

Hawk shifted guiltily from one foot to the other.  "There wasn't much point in that now, was there?  No place for a man to hide in that room."

"You mean no one's been in the brig since Lord Black's body was removed?" Jason demanded.

"Can't imagine as one would want to go into a room where a man died, if they didn't ha' to."

"Well, we're going now.  Come with me, and bring a lantern," Jason ordered, striding out of his cabin and down towards the ship's prison.  He wasn't sure what he expected to find there.  Perhaps nothing, but then again, there might be just the piece of evidence he needed.

The smell started at the beginning of the passageway.  It was so pungent Jason had to put his sleeve against his nose.  By the time they reached the brig door, the stench was unbearable.  Hawk looked ready to run the other way, but Jason yanked him along, though he himself felt ready to collapse from the strength of the odor.  He shoved the hatch open with his foot, careful to keep his nostrils blocked as much as possible.

The brig looked as innocuous as the last time he had seen it.  He himself had ordered the viscount's body taken from there and the blood scrubbed off the floorboards.  So why this overpowering smell?  There was the vacant cell.  The cot had been stripped, and the bloody blankets thrown overboard with the corpse.  The wooden chair still stood against the opposite wall.

The corner cupboard.

Jason strode towards it.  His steps never faltered, even as his heart and stomach both rebelled at what he might find in there.

"I don't understand, Jase," Hawk managed.  His voice sounded strange with his nose plugged.  "A man can't fit in there.  It's not but three feet tall, and off the ground too."

Steeling every ounce of courage in his body, Jason threw open the cabinet doors.  The lantern crashed to the ground behind him, as Hawk let it drop.  Jason gagged and reeled back, the sound of Hawk's heaving nearly prompting a similar response in him.  "Get Captain Blackheart," he ordered when he could speak again.  "Tell him we found Kevin."


	20. Chapter Twenty

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Twenty**

Even once she was free to return to her room, Mimi Lockhart got no sleep that night.  Nightmarish visions and memories collided with her efforts to decipher what she had learned and kept her pacing the confines of her small bedroom until the sun rose.  By that time, she had at least settled on a course of action.  All she truly knew was that Philip and Jan were lovers, and the person that was most relevant to was Lady Wesley.  To Chloe, therefore, she would go.

Mimi crept silently to the lady's bedroom, before the other servants were active.  It was Jan's duty to attend her mistress in the mornings, and Mimi wanted to have been and gone before "Juana" had any suspicion of it.  Gently, she knocked on the door and waited for a response.

There was no answer, and Mimi cracked the door open to peek into the room.  Lady Chloe lay awake, gazing sightlessly at the mosquito netting above her head.  Dark circles surrounded her eyes.  She looked pale and sunken in the immense mahogany divan, with the white quilt enfolding her, and her dark hair streaming onto the spotless pillows.  Her hands were folded discreetly over the covers at her abdomen.

"My lady?" Mimi whispered, thinking perhaps Chloe had not heard her knock.

Chloe didn't flinch or look her way; she kept staring at the bed canopy as she spoke.  "Mimi, if I tell you something, will you keep my secret?"

Mimi knew Chloe was speaking to her as a friend now and not a servant, so she felt no qualms at parting the filmy curtains and sitting down at the bottom of the feather down mattress.  "You know you can trust me, Chloe, always."

"I had a dream last night," Chloe continued, still avoiding Mimi's eyes, her tone distant and cold.  "I dreamt I was here in this bed.  Strange, isn't it?  I was here, and I was waiting for something…someone, maybe…and it never came.  I waited and waited, and it never came, and I grew old and died right here in this bed."

Mimi shuddered.  "It was only a nightmare, Chloe.  He'll come."

Chloe bit her lip and nodded without lifting her head.  "But that wasn't the worst of it.  The whole time I was lying here, I could hear crying in another room; it went on and on, until I realized what it was.  A baby, a baby was crying."

Mimi blanched.  As with most women of her class, Mimi had always been a superstitious person; she understood the significance of Chloe's dream, as well as the lady herself did.  "My lady, did you…you didn't…did you?"

Chloe nodded again, and it was then Mimi noticed the silent tears streaming from her eyes and soaking the pillow at the sides of her head.  "That day on the island and again…well, it's too late for regret now.  But I…I've been lying here, counting the time, and I've missed my last flow.  And I've been so sick, and I…"  Her words trailed off, as she clutched convulsively at her stomach, rolling over to face Mimi for the first time.  "Mimi, what am I going to do?"

She looked like a child with her big blue eyes open wide in a pleading expression, as though begging Mimi to take away all her troubles.  Mimi reached for the lady's cold, soft hands and wrapped them tightly in hers.  "We'll think of something, m'lady.  I promise.  Captain Blackheart promised he would come back for you; have patience."

"You know I would.  You know I'd wait forever, if there was only me to consider.  But the baby…"  Chloe cringed, as though the word pained her.  But it must have given her some resolution she had been lacking before.  The beseeching, frightened look faded from her face, and she sat up, swiping at the remaining tears and settling her expression into lines of determination.  "If I'm found to be with child and unmarried, you know what will happen.  I'll be shunned, turned away from all good society forever.  I might even end up like one of those women by the docks last night."

Mimi turned her face away to hide the emotions Chloe's comment brought up.  The lady had no idea Mimi's own mother had been such a woman.  Mimi remembered too well the horrors of growing up on the docks.  "You can't let that happen, Chloe," she replied with wisdom beyond her years.  "Not to you, not to your child."

Chloe looked startled at the firm conviction in Mimi's voice.  "Then what am I to do, Mimi?  Tell me, please.  I have no one else on whom I can rely."

Mimi grimaced.  She didn't want such a large burden on her shoulders, but she knew what Chloe said was true.  She couldn't handle this alone.  "First, you wait.  There are still a few months before you'll begin to show, and perhaps before that time, Brady will return to you."

"And if he doesn't?" Chloe prompted, though her eyes showed already some hint of the approaching horror.

Mimi pulled together every scrap of practicality she had to force the next words past her lips.  "You'll have to marry Philip."

Chloe winced; her eyes and lips were pressed tightly together for long moments in silent pain.  Finally, she nodded.  "Oh God," she whispered.  "Oh please God, let Brady come!"

Mimi silently seconded the prayer, for Chloe's sake, for her own, and for the little life already growing inside of her friend.  She remembered the information she had come here to impart.  It would have to wait.  The last thing Chloe needed to hear right now was that the man she might be forced to marry was as in love with another woman as she was with another man.

~~*~~

Shawn Brady sighed as he rode to the crest of the hill overlooking Titan Sugarcane Plantation.  The sun was high and hot at midday, and Shawn sweltered beneath his heavy uniform.  He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and cursed again the formal propriety that required a man to nearly die of heatstroke merely to be presentable.  His head itched under his new periwig.

The slaves were out working in the cane fields, and Shawn felt fierce anger pumping through him as the overseer took a whip to the back of a man who lagged behind.  If that man worked for him, he would be put to the lash himself for such behavior, but Philip Kiriakis paid no attention to the running of his farm.  As long as the crops were harvested in time and he was able to reap his profits, he was content to sit back behind the gleaming white walls of his great house and turn a blind eye to the injustice taking place on his very own property.

Turning his head away from a scene he could do nothing to stop, Shawn traced the boundaries of the deserted Alamain Plantation to the west.  Brady and Jason might never return there to assume their false identities.  It would be unsafe for them to do so, since the women living in the nearest house could so clearly identify them; not that Chloe Wesley or Miriam Lockhart would be willing to, but that still left that other servant—what was her name?—and his fiancé unaccounted for.  He wished now more than ever that he had not agreed to Brady's promise.  He wished he was free to tell Belle her brother yet lived.

Pushing such thoughts aside, Shawn sunk his heels into the horse's flanks and galloped onward to meet his beloved.  He didn't come with pleasant tidings, but perhaps being able to deliver them himself would take some of the sting out of it.

He had not gone far along the dusty road when the sound of a woman's voice pulled him to a stop beside the same incident he had witnessed with such revulsion from the top of the hill.  Shawn knew that voice, though he had never heard her speak with such a tone of mingled disgust and authority.

"What do you think you're doing?  Put that horrible thing down right now!  How dare you!  These are people, don't you see?  This is a man you're treating like an animal.  Put that whip down, I say.  What's your name?  I shall report you to your master at once."

Shawn grinned but immediately dismounted to attend to the scene.  He had a feeling his interference would be needed.  

Lady Belle Black stood in the middle of the cane fields, her parasol high over her head to deflect the sun's piercing rays, her maid standing beside her for both moral and physical support.  The sweaty, grimy supervisor of the Titan plantation was staring down at her from atop his mare, the whip stopped mid-lash, as though not quite sure what to do about this situation.  The unfortunate man who had been receiving the beating used this opportunity to crawl out of reach of the boss's heavy hand.  The other slaves had stopped their labor to watch the confrontation unfold. 

Finally, the overseer recovered enough to wipe his brow with the back of his dirty sleeve.  "Begging your pardon, Miss, but you don't rightly have the authority to tell me what to do here.  These be Mr. Kiriakis' lands, and he tells me the job needs to be done, so the job'll be done.  You don't understand how lazy these dogs can be if you don't keep them in their place."

Belle's normally sweet face contracted with impotent fury.  "They're not dogs, and they're not lazy!  They're people, and they're working under hideous conditions in the blazing hot sun.  Give me that whip.  I will be speaking to Mr. Kiriakis about this, I can tell you.  Give.  Me.  That.  Whip."  Her melodious voice had dropped to near deadly tones.

Shawn took a few steps closer.  He was behind Belle, who had not noticed him yet, and he would say nothing unless the overseer defied her yet again.  He had never been prouder of the woman he intended for his wife, and he longed to see the result of her actions.

The man astride the horse cracked the whip once more on the poor, crouching slave, before tossing it down at Belle's feet.  He spit on the ground near her.  "It won't do you any good.  Mr. Kiriakis knows I'm the best overseer in all Jamaica; he lets me have my way, and I get him his sugar."  He kicked his spurs into the mare and trotted through the crowd, nearly knocking over several slaves in his haste.

No sooner was he gone than Belle flung herself down on the ground by the injured man.  "Mimi, go back to the house.  Get me bandages, warm water, anything to clean these wounds.  Hurry!"

Mimi turned around, prepared to do her mistress's bidding, and gasped when she saw Shawn standing there.  Shawn put a finger to his lips, and she smiled warmly back at him before nodding and continuing her race to the house.

Belle knelt at the man's side and checked the extent of his wounds.  Eventually, she looked up at the still-gawking crowd around her.  "You and you," she said, gesturing to two of the largest men amongst them.  "What are your names?"

The two exchanged glances, before one of them stepped forward.  He was tall and broad, with beautiful ebony skin, horribly marred by slashes across his arms and back.  Shawn winced.  He had a noble carriage, a native grace to him.  This man was a king brought low by the greed, bigotry, and pitilessness of white men—of Shawn's own countrymen.

"I am Temilade," he said, his voice deep and full of grave dignity.  "This is Iniko."

Belle nodded and smiled.  She was not intimidated by his size or his race, as many colonial women were.  She carried no inborn or instilled prejudice to make her view any man as less than herself.  Shawn's heart swelled; this was the woman he loved.  "A pleasure to meet you, Temilade, Iniko.  My name is Isabelle.  Do you know where we can carry this man—oh, what is his name by the way?—somewhere he can be kept safe to heal his wounds?"

"He is Ndasunnye," Temilade replied, still staring at Belle as though he had never seen anyone like her before.  He probably hadn't, Shawn mused.  "And we may take him to my hut."

"Oh, thank you so much, Temilade!  Can you and Iniko carry him?  My maid has gone to fetch my things, but I'll be able to attend him when she returns."

Shawn doubted Belle even knew how much honor was being conferred upon her as Temilade stooped to help support the weak, injured man back to his hut.  If Shawn did not misjudge the markings, Temilade was a warrior of an honored tribe, while Ndasunnye was nothing.  To have a man from another tribe lodge in a warrior's house was practically unheard of.

Belle did not know any of this, however, and slowly got to her feet to follow the procession to Temilade's hovel.  Her eyes never left the wounded man, and Shawn decided not to make his presence known.  It was enough he had seen her goodness; she had not done it to make an impression on anyone, and that was where the true nobleness of her spirit lay.  

Shawn waited until Belle had disappeared into the slave huts before mounting his horse and riding on to the great house.  He would speak to Belle when she had finished her mission of mercy and not before.

~~*~~

Chloe was shaken awake from a brief and unsatisfying nap.  The Jamaican sun was so much hotter here than at sea, with the breeze of the ocean to cool Chloe's feverish skin; when the humidity had risen, she had retired to sleep away the afternoon, on Mimi's suggestion that it was good for the baby.  

It was therefore with some surprise that she blinked her eyes open to be confronted by a still blazing sky outside and Mimi bending over her within.  She groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose.  "What is it, Mimi?" she asked groggily.  "Is something wrong?"

Mimi made an indeterminate noise.  "I don't know about wrong exactly, but you're missing all the fun."

Chloe blinked back at her.  "Fun?"

Mimi rolled her eyes.  "Yes, you know, fun, as in pleasurable experiences.  You used to have them too."

"I know what fun is," Chloe snapped, before getting hold of herself.  She took a deep breath.  "I'm sorry, Mimi.  I'm having trouble processing information today.  Would you mind explaining it all to me while I try to wake?"

Mimi nodded.  "Well, it all started when Lady Black wanted to take a walk.  I told her it was too hot, what with her black dress and the sun and everything, but you know how determined Belle can be.  So she started walking, and she saw the slaves working, and it horrified her.  Even women and children, working in that hot sun, barely clothed, half-starved.  And then, she saw the overseer take a whip to one of the men, and she lost it.  She went right up to him and yelled at him and demanded that he drop the whip, which he did.  Oh, you should have seen it, Chloe!  You would have been so proud of her.  Commodore Brady saw it though, and he looked ready to kiss her in front of everyone, he was so pleased, but he didn't say anything, just stood there watching her, and he wouldn't let me say anything either.  Then, Belle sent me back to get her medical things so she could take care of the man being whipped, and I did."

Chloe's head spun.  It was always difficult keeping up with Mimi when she started talking at this speed; half-asleep and disoriented, it was nearly impossible.

"So on my way back, I ran into Commodore Brady, and he told me Belle had gone down to the slave huts to tend the man there.  By the time I arrived, Belle knew half of them by name, was talking to them all, promising to do everything she could to help them.  The second I got there, she took all the supplies and…well, I'm really drawing this story out, aren't I?  I'm sorry.  Anyway, she treated that poor man…don't ask me to pronounce his name, I can't.  Belle does though; she'll tell you his whole life story, I'm sure."

"Mimi, would you mind getting to the point?" Chloe asked with long-suffering affection.

"Oh, right!  Where was I?  Oh yes, so Belle and I walked back to the house, and I still hadn't told Belle about seeing Shawn, since I knew he wanted it to be a surprise, and all the time we were walking, Belle was ranting about how she's going to use that whip on the overseer or maybe on Philip instead.  I wasn't too worried though, because she was also exhausted and hot and worried about those poor slaves.  The conditions they live in!  It's deplorable, and Belle's determined to fix it.  

"Anyway, so Belle and I walked up to the house, and we heard shouting the moment we stepped in.  I motioned for Belle to be quiet, so we could hear what it was all about.  Sure enough, Philip was screaming at Shawn for letting the _Vengeance get away, the same as he tried to do last night.  Well, I've never seen Belle so angry!  Not even when she was yelling at that filthy man on the horse.  She stormed into the room, but her voice was so calm, and she told Philip he had no business telling Shawn how to do his job when he had no control over his plantation.  And it only went downhill from there.  Belle has spent the last half hour lecturing Philip on all he needs to do to improve his treatment of his people; she won't let him get a word in edgewise.  It's wonderful!"_

Chloe laughed.  "I agree, that is definitely worth waking up for."

Mimi grinned at her.  "So you'll come downstairs with me then?  I thought it would be cheering to the both of us."

Chloe wholeheartedly agreed.  She wasn't sure which mental image appealed to her most: Philip Kiriakis being ordered around, or Belle Black issuing said orders.  She asked for Mimi's assistance in dressing—the voluminous skirts were too heavy for pleasant slumber—and then both girls raced down the staircase, only assuming a more sedate pace once the sound of voices drifted out to them.  Mimi naturally shrunk behind Chloe, once again the maid instead of the friend.

Chloe yanked her to her side and entered the parlor.

"And those huts are simply unacceptable.  Nothing but filth, insects, and disease!  You'll have to completely rebuild, from wood this time, with proper outhouses for sanitation needs.  And clothing for them all, and schooling for the children!  It's appalling, allowing children to work like that—"

"It's illegal to teach slaves to read," Philip interrupted.  He was sitting on one of the settees, his arms crossed sullenly in front of him as he watched Belle pace back and forth across the room, her black dress making her seem nearly a nun.  Shawn was leaning against one wall, watching the proceedings in mingled amusement and admiration.

"What?" Belle exclaimed, stopping in her striding to gape at the planter.  "Well, that law must be changed immediately."

Philip had apparently had enough.  He rose to his feet, his jaw like iron, though his voice was stiffly polite.  "Lady Black, while I applaud your humanitarian zeal, you will please refrain from telling me how to run my own plantation.  When you have property of your own, you will be free to conduct your affairs as you see fit."  He smirked.  "But as any property you might have will be settled on your husband, that shall never be, thank God."

Shawn straightened and stepped forward, placing himself between Philip and Belle.  "Belle's fortune and property shall stay in her name; it's in the wedding terms.  I don't need her fortune, and unlike some people, I refuse to rely on my future wife to advance me in the world."  He shot a pointed look at Chloe in the entryway, drawing the attention of the other two towards the new arrivals for the first time.

The anger instantly slid away from Philip's face, replaced by the mask of simpering affection Chloe despised.  "Chloe, my love," he murmured, approaching her and taking her passive hand.  He brought it to his lips, and Chloe repressed a shudder.  She could _not marry this man!  She prayed fervently once more for Brady's swift return.  _

"Good afternoon, Philip."  Her own control astonished her.  How could her voice sound so cool and placid, when inside her mind and heart were rioting?

"Well, now that we're all gathered together, I believe I shall order tea," Philip remarked smoothly.  He led Chloe to a chair and then snapped his fingers at a nearby servant, who immediately ran from the room.

Belle scowled at him.  "The pirates showed more humanity than you."

Chloe silently cheered and interchanged a look of amusement with Mimi.  It was the first time they had heard Belle defend the crew of the _Vengeance _since her father's death.

Philip no longer bothered to conceal his rage.   "Oh really?  Would you like to speak to my cook on that subject?  He has firsthand knowledge of those pirates you so defend.  He is the only surviving passenger of the _El Diablo_.  Shall I send for him?"

There was a universal shudder.  All present knew of the massacre aboard the Spanish galleon.

For the first time, Belle looked cowed into submission.  She took a seat beside Shawn and folded her hands primly in her lap.  "That will be unnecessary.  I was out of line.  Forgive me."

Philip eyed her with cool disdain for a moment, before relenting.  "All is forgiven, Lady Black.  Now, shall we move the subject on to pleasanter matters?  Chloe, my love, when is the day when you shall make me the happiest of men?"  

Chloe sent a silent appeal for help to first Mimi, then Shawn.  She couldn't marry him, not before giving Brady every last second to arrive.

Shawn came to her rescue.  "Well, it cannot be for a month yet."

Philip and Belle both looked at him in equal degrees of surprise.

"What have you to do with it, Brady?" Philip sneered.

"Nothing, only that I assumed Lady Wesley and Lady Black would wish to be married together, and Belle and I cannot wed for another month."  Shawn took Belle's hand and gazed on her with loving regret.  "That is what I came to tell you," he said, in tones meant for her ears only.  "Commodore Norrington has ordered me out on patrol; I shall have to go to sea."

Belle's face flashed briefly with pain, before she quickly repressed it.  She squeezed his hand.  "I understand.  It was the bargain I made when I agreed to wed a sailor."

Chloe watched them with a feeling of envy.  Everything was so simple for Shawn and Belle.  They loved each other and were promised to each other.  No one could come between them.

"I don't see why my wedding should be delayed to suit your schedule, Commodore," Philip complained.  "I want to take Chloe back to the Continent after our marriage, and if we delay any longer, the hurricane season will be upon us, and we'll have to wait another six months."

Chloe jerked her face to stare at him.  "Going back to England?  I don't understand.  If that was your plan all along, why bring me out here in the first place?"

"I didn't originally intend to return to Europe instantly, Chloe, my love," Philip explained, in a patronizing tone that galled Chloe almost as much as the continual references to her as _Chloe, my love_.  If he said that one more time, she was going to rip his tongue out.  "You may recall that your arrival was delayed several months by the…er…unfortunate incident."

"Still, why are we going back to England?  Your plantation is here."

Philip blinked at her.  "Why, to be presented at Court, of course, darling."

Why were endearments so un-endearing when they came from his lips?

Chloe blanched.  "But I loathe Court.  I came all this way to avoid that lifestyle, and now you want me to go back?  I can't.  I won't!"

Philip's blue-grey eyes hardened into steel.  "You will."

Fear lodged in Chloe's throat for reasons she couldn't define.  In England, Philip had always seemed loathsome to her, odious and foppish.  Now, on his own territory, she saw his personality more clearly.  Peevish, easily angered, and demanding, and this man could be her husband.  She could not let that happen!  And yet the baby growing inside of her had to be her first responsibility.

_Tread carefully, Chloe,_ she reminded herself.  She smoothed her face out into indifference, before she continued.  "As you wish, Mr. Kiriakis," she said formally.  "But I must agree with Shawn.  I cannot be married without Belle; I always understood it to be a double ceremony, and I shan't be parted from her before then."

Philip scowled with displeasure but offered a curt nod of acceptance.  "Very well then.  The arrangements shall be made for a month from now.  Ah, I see tea is here."

Jan Spears entered carrying the silver settings, and Chloe moved forward to do the honors of the table.

"You will all pardon me if I don't partake," Philip said, as Chloe held out a cup to him.  "I have several affairs of importance that require my immediate attention."  He bowed and left the room, with Jan trailing behind, to the immense relief of all those remaining.

~~*~~

The day was well-advanced before the _Vengeance _docked off the shores of the pirate refuge of Tortuga.  Even at this time of day, the breezes from the city reeked of sweat and filth, blood and liquor.  Brady was long since accustomed to such odors, but they never failed to leave a stench in his nostrils, long after he had left the place.  He loathed this island.  It turned the most hardened fighting men into drunken, debauched imbeciles.  Rounding up a crew after a stop in Tortuga took three times as long as anywhere else.

Only one man could have brought him here in the middle of a quest as important as this.

"So let me get this straight," Captain Jack Sparrow mumbled over his mug of rum, while he faced the Captain and first mate of the most-feared and second-fastest ship in the Caribbean—second only of course to his own _Black Pearl.  "You want me to attack a Spanish galleon within ten leagues of Jamaica."_

"Yes," Brady returned evenly.  While Jack might stumble over his words, Brady knew his senses were fully alert.

"And for this, I'm to earn two chests full of pieces of eight, as well as whatever we take off the galleon."  For all the seeming calm of his words, the dark eyes were dilated beneath his faded leather hat.  His swarthy face was outlined against the flickering lamps of the tavern, and his teeth glinted greedy gold.

"Yes."  There was no change in Brady's tone.  He would ensnare the wily captain better if he played nonchalant.

"Now, one might ask why you're not going to take the beauty yourself."

"Our hold is full, and I'd rather see it go to you than reach King Phillip's coffers."

Captain Sparrow grinned and sat back, shaking his head.  "See, that's your problem, Blackheart.  You think ethics are important enough to go risking your bloody neck."

"And you don't?" Jason asked incredulously.  Brady winced.  This was the first time he had introduced his friend to the odd treasure-hunter, and Jason didn't know the way to handle him.

Captain Sparrow reclined even further, folding his hands behind his head.  "The way I see it, there are two things worth risking one's neck for.  The first is saving one's neck from losing it another way in the first place.  And the second is…"  He straightened suddenly, a thoughtful expression on his face.  "Come to think of it, there's only one reason worth risking one's neck."

Brady didn't bother trying to decipher the logic that had Jason's face contorted in confusion.  "So is that a yes or a no?"

"Don't be so hasty, mate.  I have some questions first.  I don't buy your story for an instant.  You're too bloodthirsty to let this prize go, if you didn't have something bigger in mind.  Now, I'm imagining there's a reason I'm to attack off the coast of Jamaica, and I imagine that reason has the name of Commodore Norrington.  And by my reasoning, that means you reason you'll be better off with Norrington away from Jamaica whenever you do whatever you're planning on doing, if you follow my reason."

Brady scowled.  He half-believed Jack Sparrow only spoke this way to make people think twice before coming to him for anything.  "Fine.  Yes, I want Norrington and his fleet out of Port Royal when I bring my ship in.  We've come into a spot of trouble recently, and I'd rather not have the Royal Navy pointing their guns at me before I reach harbor."

"Uh huh," Jack returned.  "But then the question remains.  Why risk leaving this port of all pleasures at the start of hurricane season to travel to a naval base with its guns trained on you?  Even ethics can't make you that stupid."

"Let's just say, I have a personal debt to settle."

"Someone take your ship?" Captain Sparrow asked with something akin to sympathy.

"No."

"Someone take your girl?"  There was derision in his voice now.

Brady's hand tightened around his own mug.  "No."

"Someone—"

"Someone killed his father, okay?" Jason burst out.  Brady groaned; he should have ordered Masters to be silent before bringing him.  It took many meetings before anyone gained skill at the art of speaking to Jack.

"Ah, well, there's a sensible answer.  'Someone killed his father.'  Does 'someone' have a name?"

"Jan Spears," Jason volunteered, despite Brady's well-placed kick under the table.

Captain Sparrow raised an eyebrow.  "A girl?  Well, that's nice to see.  I always was a supporter of equal opportunity killing.  Is she a pirate?"

"We don't know who she is," Jason went on, while Brady silently seethed.  "It's more a matter of ruling out possibilities that led us to her anyway.  The number one suspect was hacked up in a cupboard, and she was about the only one who could have done it."

Jack nodded, as though this speech made perfect sense.  Brady watched them both, his anger giving way to surprise.  Perhaps Jason knew what he was doing better than Brady thought he did.

"Now before I looked into killing the one who killed my dad, I would probably start looking for _why _they killed my dad, you know, just to make sure it all looks square, savvy?"

"Well to do that, we have to get to Jamaica," Brady gritted out.  This conversation was wasting precious time.  Ever since his father's death, his mind had been centered on one thought: vengeance on the murdered.  He had her in his sights, and he wasn't about to let her go, because of some half-insane pirate who just happened to be Commodore Norrington's nemesis.

"Right then.  Well, we'd best be off, hadn't we?  Just as soon as I finish me rum."

Captain Jack Sparrow drained the mug in one long, thirsty gulp.

~~*~~

He could still remember the first time he had seen her.  He had been a poor Greek scholar, struggling to hang onto existence as he studied in the legendary University of Salamanca.  He had been isolated, alone, trying to find his place in a world different from any he had known.  His father had been a merchant, and he had learned well the languages of Spain, France, and England, but he didn't belong anywhere.

Nowhere, that is, until he looked into the darkness of her eyes.

She had been the daughter of one of his professors.  Beautiful, fiery, with hair like midnight, and eyes that held the pride and anger of hundreds of generations before her.  She had been angry; he had known that the moment he met her.  Bitter, filled with a thirst for vengeance.  It wasn't until many weeks later that she had unfolded to him the cause of her suffering.

She had once had a brother, she told him.  They had been the dearest of friends and playmates, since they were children.  But the lure of fortune and adventure had drawn him to sea.  The patriot spirit burned bright in their family, and he had left with his sister's heart and fire as well as her prayers and tears.

It was not until six months after it happened that the slow course of mail from the Main brought news of the sinking of his ship and the murder of all the crew by a pirate vessel called the _Vengeance_.

She was not a man, fit to go to war, but she had the heart to kill, the spirit to take revenge for the wrong done her family.  And so, as she slowly told him, bringing him into her confidence, she had found another way to serve her country, her homeland, her brother.

By the time she had gotten so far, he had been lost.  He would have done anything for her, to have her, and when she asked for his allegiance, she received it instantaneously.  It was only later, as he kneeled in a Spanish palace and took an oath before the king that he wondered if he had done rightly.

All his worry was washed away by what followed.  To the Main he was sent, a plantation he was given, riches beyond his wildest dreams, and _her _always there, by his side, allowing his eyes to feast on her, allowing his body to mold with hers.

They sent reports of troop movements, of buccaneer activity, of West Indies politics through to the Inquisitors.  It was frighteningly easy.  And then, new orders had come.  It wasn't enough anymore.  They wanted more; _she wanted to give more.  There had been night raids, bodies dropped into caves and the mighty ocean, never to rise again.  She reveled in it all with fiendish glee, and when she would come to him after a killing, she passed that passion onto him, until he learned to enjoy the slaughter as well, from the knowledge of what would come after._

They were a team.  Lovers, spies, murderers.

And then, new orders had come once again.  The West Indies were a lost cause, but perhaps with a spy in Court, more could be accomplished.  But how to gain entry?   Marriage to nobility was the only recourse.  

And a sharp wedge had been driven between them.

But he tried to drive that barrier away, to show her with his body what she would never allow him to say with words.  Her figure writhed and moaned beneath his, her fingers clawed into his back, drawing the blood that was such a sickly sweet part of their relationship.  He focused on her eyes, wanting to see himself reflected there, as he dove into her.

All he saw was darkness.


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Jason Masters made his way down the crowded, rowdy streets of Port Royal.  Nearly half a year had passed since he last donned the garb of a servant to go scrounging for information in the taverns of this city of vice.  It was Lucas Roberts' unwitting comment then that had started Brady and Jason's last adventure—the adventure which had changed Jason's life.  To Lucas Roberts, he now returned.

When the _Vengeance _finally took harbor in one of the coves surrounding the Jamaican seashore after a month of sailing through rough weather, Jason's first thought was to ride to Titan, find Mimi and return to the ship as quickly as humanly possible.  He wanted to sail away with her and never set foot on this land again.  He wanted to start a whole new life with her, beyond killing and violence and revenge.

Brady's thirst for it was becoming unquenchable.

But the wise, careful part of Jason's brain stopped rash action.  Before they did anything, they must first know how things stood at with Kiriakis, Norrington, Shawn, and all the rest.  So while Brady waited in secret for news, Jason took the part of Welles, waiting gentleman to the eccentric planter Victor Alamain, and went to meet his source at The Three Tunns.

He was unsurprised to find Lucas in the same tavern, at the same table, with similar people, as the last time he had met him.  While time had changed much for Jason, the local drunks were sadly predictable.  

Roberts' eyes opened in glazed surprise as they caught on Jason.  "Welles, I thought you were dead," he called out, only slightly slurring his words.  It was still too early in the day for him to be beyond understanding.

Jason bowed stiffly, in mockery of the function he was supposed to have.  "Business has kept me at the plantation for many long months."

"Sit down, sit down.  They were just leaving."  He winked at his friends, and they quickly dispersed.  They knew as well as Lucas that good fortune for their comrade meant a round of drinks for all.  "Well, I wouldn't have expected to see you today of all days."

"And why's that?" Jason asked carefully.  It didn't do to let on too much ignorance of affairs on the island.

Lucas blinked stupidly.  "The wedding!  Cor, man.  I thought all the planters were invited.  Was not your master?  'Twould be strange if he wasn't, for all Philyboy doesn't like him.  I heard tell it was to be the event of the year."

Jason's blood froze, but he kept his face coolly indifferent.  "I assume you mean Kiriakis' wedding to Lady Wesley?"

"Let's not forget Lady Black's to Commodore Brady either.  I'faith, I thought Brady's friendship with Alamain would have insured his invite.  Doesn't seem quite right to be slighting a man like that."

"My master was invited but has chosen not to attend," Jason sniffed, staying in character.  He was sure an invitation had been delivered and would be waiting for them when they returned to their plantation, so it wasn't a complete lie.  But he dreaded seeing Brady's face when he told him this news.  As if the captain didn't hate the world enough right now…

Lucas whistled low and long in his throat.  "That seems harsher than anything else.  Why, I've heard tell there ain't never been two such fine ladies in Jamaica before.  Nay, nor the Main either.  The one is reckoned a bit haughty, but just as beautiful as a queen, and too good for Philyboy by far.  But the other…why, she's an angel sent from heaven so they say.  Dispensing mercy and medicine and all sorts of high-flown goodness everywhere she goes."

Jason hid his smile.  That description completely matched his feelings towards Chloe and Belle.  He considered racing out of the tavern that moment, but a last thought stopped him.  "I imagine Commodore Norrington will be attending the ceremony."

Slowly, Lucas shook his head.  "Sometimes I wonder how you can stand never hearing anything on that farm of yours.  Norrington's gone, took half the fleet with him."  The drunkard chuckled.  "Seems Captain Sparrow's been strolling a bit too close to Jamaican waters for the Commodore's comfort.  Took a ship not a week since, and the old prick's gone after him.  I figures it'll be another week before he comes home empty-handed, as usual."

That time, Jason didn't bother to conceal his grin.  He plopped down several pieces of eight on the table.  "And I figure that story well earns you that gold."  He rose and took his leave, already mentally rehearsing ways to tell Brady his lady was marrying another—perhaps already had.

~~*~~

"I look dreadful."

"You're beautiful."

"I'm dirty."

"You're tanned; it offsets the white of your dress beautifully."

"I'm too thin."

Mimi hesitated for a moment at that one.  Her mistress certainly was not the blooming picture of health most men wanted to marry.  She wasn't a strong, hearty woman for birthing many children.  She would always be as she was now, fragile.  "You're ethereal," she soothed finally.  "And Commodore Brady loves you just the way you are."

Belle bit her lip as she surveyed herself in the full-length mirror of her boudoir.  Mimi would never know with what she found fault.  Gleaming white satin and lace cascaded round the petite beauty.  Her golden hair was braided into a crown, allowing her creamy neck to glimmer with the family pearls around it.  Mimi affixed the sheer veil to the top of her head and allowed it to disguise the lady's porcelain features.  She stepped back, admiring her handiwork.  Belle looked positively seraphic.

"Perfect," she announced.  "Isn't she, Lady Wesley?"

When there was no response, Mimi turned around.  Chloe stood in Belle's bedroom, staring out the window.  Her cream-colored gown counterbalanced her vital, buxom figure—still unmarred by her pregnancy, though it was only a matter of time before she began to show—and her dark hair was softened by the color of her veil.  She, however, was not fussing over her appearance; she had no desire to look perfect for this day.

Her eyes were fastened on the dirt road leading to the plantation house.

Mimi sighed, leaving Belle to approach her.  She peeked over Chloe's shoulder to see the approaching line of carriages.  "It's nearly time," she whispered quietly.

Chloe nodded curtly, giving sign that she had heard.  Her eyes never left the horizon.

Mimi winced.  She regretted so her advice to her friend.  Something that made Chloe so miserable couldn't possibly be right.  Gently, she put a hand on the other woman's shoulder and squeezed.  "Chloe, don't do this.  It's not too late, you know.  Tell Philip you've had a change of heart.  Send me, and I'll tell him.  But don't marry him!"

A sad ghost of a smile flickered across Chloe's unnaturally pale face, half-hidden behind the veil.  "You know as well as I that I can't do that.  I don't have any choice."

"Don't say that," Mimi hissed, still nearly inaudible in an attempt to keep their conversation from Belle on the other side of the room.  "You always have a choice, Chloe."

The lady finally moved her gaze from the window to settle their full sapphire effect on Mimi's face.  "No, Mimi.  I gave that right up the moment my choices created another life.  I can't think only of myself now, as I always have before."  With a heavy sigh, she yanked the curtains closed and returned to Belle.  

Mimi felt pride mix with her sorrow as she saw the strength with which Chloe moved, the high lift of her chin, the straight line of her back.  In the horrors of the past few months, the vain, headstrong girl had become a woman.

"You do look lovely, Belle," Chloe announced.  She slid a hand around her friend's waist and glanced at their dual reflection.  She frowned.  "Something's missing though.  Mimi, would you fetch us flowers for our bouquets?"

"Is there time?" Belle fretted.  "Shouldn't they be sending for us soon?"

"I'll hurry," Mimi reassured her.  It wouldn't be right for the brides not to have bouquets.  While the wedding might be a nightmare for Chloe, it was a dream come true for Belle—the first thing that had made her smile since her father's death—and she deserved to have it perfect to the smallest detail.  Even Chloe seemed to think so and was making an effort to appear cheerful for her friend.

Mimi rushed down the stairs and towards the conservatory.  There wasn't time to go to the gardens; hothouse flowers would have to do.  With light steps in her silent slippers, she approached the glass-walled room.  It wasn't until she was nearly there that the voices caught her attention and stopped her in her tracks.

"If you could kill Lord Black on a ship full of pirates, who were supposedly defending him, do you really think I'll find it impossible to give my wife a shove overboard in the middle of the ocean?"

Mimi froze, her blood turning to ice.  She knew that voice.  She slunk into the shadows and tried to keep absolutely still.

"It's not the opportunity I question, it's the actual doing.  You called her that _word again."_

"And you think that means anything?  She _will be my wife, and I __will kill her.  _Juana, _don't you know by now that I—I…"_

"You what, Philip?" Jan spat out sardonically.  "You love me?  Is that what you were going to say?"

"And what if I was?"  Philip sounded defensive now, almost insecure.

Jan's laughter reached Mimi's ears, cold and harsh and mocking.  "Oh, _querido, how ridiculous you are.  You don't love me anymore than I love you."_

"For someone who doesn't love me, you're making a fine impression of it in your jealousy."  Philip's voice matched hers for coldness.

"I simply don't understand the reason why your marriage is so necessary to His Majesty's plans."

Philip sighed, a long-suffering sound.  "And I've told you, I can't buy my way into court.  In England, standing isn't based on wealth alone, but blood.  Lady Wesley's family line entitles her to take place at Court—and by extension, her spouse."

"I'm not a fool, Philip.  I understand all of that.  My bloodlines are purer than any foul English bitch can ever hope to attain.  What I don't appreciate is being pulled from the Caribbean to return to England, when our mission here is not yet complete.  Blackheart yet lives."

"Your personal thirst for vengeance can make no impact on His Majesty's decisions, _Juana.  To you, killing the pirate who killed your brother is the pinnacle to which all else strives; to King Phillip, defeating the English as a nation holds far more interest.  Enough of this.  My orders are to marry Lady Wesley and marry her I shall.  My wish is to not be burdened with an English wife, and so she shall die.  This conversation can wait."_

Mimi heard footsteps sounding along the marble floor and withdrew into the empty parlor next to the conservatory.  She heard Philip pass by and waited for Jan to make her exit as well.  The crash of porcelain against glass and a cry of frustrated anger proceeded Jan's removal, but then the maid hurried away with quick steps.

Even after the sound of Jan's slippers had ceased to reach her ears, Mimi waited.  She felt incapable of movement, as she strove to grasp everything she had heard.  Jan had killed Lord Black.  Philip was going to kill Chloe.  They were both spies for the Spanish king.  Jan wanted to kill Brady, who had killed her brother.  Months of confusion sorted themselves out in a few moments for Mimi.

Still, she hesitated.  To whom could she take this information?  Chloe, obviously, needed to know she was marrying a man who would murder her without a second thought.  But what could the lady do about it?  What could Mimi do about it?  She wished Jason were here; she had been longing for him for months, but this went beyond personal need.  He would know how to handle this, as would Captain Blackheart.  Where were they?  Why were they delayed?

Logic came to Mimi the next moment.  The pirates were not here and could not help her, but another man was who could.  Shawn was here; Shawn, the soldier, the warrior, could help her.  If only she could reach him in time…

Mimi sped out of the room, not wasting another second on thought.  She never stopped running all the way from one wing to the next, until she threw herself breathless and sweaty at Commodore Brady's door.  She pounded several times, without receiving answer, before braving to open it.  

It was empty.

The maid swore under her breath.  He must already have gone to the outdoor pavilion set up for the double ceremony.  Still, she must do something!  Mimi raced up the stairs towards Belle's room but stopped halfway there.

Music was being played.  It wafted through the open balcony window.

Mimi was too late.

Numb, she walked back down the steps and out through the heavy wooden doors to the canopy under the trees.  The best society the island had to offer were all gathered round the spot where the highest ranking official of the Church of England in Jamaica joined together Lady Isabelle Black and Commodore Shawn Douglas Brady and Lady Chloe Wesley and Philip Kiriakis.

Mimi listened to the old man's voice drone on.

"Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these four persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

Mimi took a step nearer to the scene to speak, but something caught her.  Her eyes inadvertently and unwillingly landed on Belle's face, shining even through the veil.  She glowed with joy.  That would all be taken away from her if Mimi spoke now.  She would lose her wedding day.  Shawn would be forced to act his duty; their happiness would be delayed yet again.  

While she was still silently deliberating, the reverend continued.  This time, he spoke only to the two couples before him, reading monotonously the words of the prayer book.  "I require and charge you all, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if any of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God's Word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their Matrimony lawful."

_Speak, Chloe! _Mimi willed her friend silently.  If only Chloe would of her own volition walk away from her ceremony, then Belle could still marry Shawn, without any interference.  _Please, say something!_

Chloe's face was a mask.  No emotion flickered behind her eyes, except cool indifference.  She had the same stifled look on her face as she used to get when forced to accompany her parents to Court, that of doing a duty which gave her no pleasure.

No words left her mouth, and the clergyman turned to Shawn.  "Shawn Douglas Brady, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Shawn's brown eyes sparked and his gorgeous smile lit his face, as he answered quickly and eagerly, "I will."

"Isabelle Marlena Black, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

Belle's smile matched Shawn's, but her blue eyes shone with tears, and her voice shook, as she solemnly pronounced the words, "I will."

Mimi found her voice choked by such apparent love.  All around were touched, transformed by its purity.  She could not speak now, though she wanted to desperately.  Her voice had been lost, and she could not grasp it, even as she heard Philip's cold voice pronounce words of love and honor towards a woman he did neither, and Chloe echo them back in a tone scarcely living.

The ceremony went on, through the giving of the brides, of the rings, through sermons and prayers, and still nothing hindered it, and still no one stopped it.  The married couples were presented to the assembled, and no one had anything but words of praise and joy.

And only Mimi noticed that the new Mrs. Kiriakis still gazed out at the dusty road, tears finally springing into her eyes, as her wedding ended, and the man she loved had not come to stop it.  She was now past the point of salvation.

~~*~~

Shawn couldn't take his eyes off her.  She shone out angel light amongst the rabble of adoring humans.  And this goddess, this immortal being, was his wife.  He felt he had no more right than these to stare and worship from a distance.  The knowledge that he could take a saint in his arms, kiss her, hold her, seemed almost unholy.

Yet his hands ached to caress, to explore her.  He wondered if that was sacrilegious.  

He didn't care.

She was his idol, Diana the Virgin, Aphrodite, Goddess of Love.  She was the beginning and end of his life.  She was everything.

He saw her standing across the room, talking amongst the local landed women.  She laughed at something one of them said; the clear, tinkling sound reached his ears and made his heart sing.  

"Belle," he breathed, but for a moment, he thought he shouted it, when she looked his way and flashed him a dazzling smile.  Her eyes stayed locked with his, even as she said something to the women around her.

Shawn saw the crowd part, and she began to weave her way towards him.  He stood frozen, watching her move.  He wondered if she truly floated, or if that was only his imagination.  The ball swirled around them, but he saw only her.  She was his center and all.

"Commodore Brady..."  The voice was unwelcome.

He didn't even turn his eyes from his angel, as he murmured.  "Not now, Mimi.  Tomorrow."

"Please, Commodore, I need to speak to you."

"It can wait until tomorrow, Mimi.  There's only Belle tonight."  And that said, he left the maidservant without a glance to cross the few short steps between him and his queen.

"You've been watching me," Belle mumbled up at him, her cheeks flushing with becoming emotion.  "I felt you."

All the blood in Shawn's brain started flowing downward.  She was his goddess, and he wanted to make her mortal.  Make her his.  He grabbed her hand and caressed it, his thumb twirling slowly round the pulse in her wrist.  "Come away with me."

Her eyes closed slowly, hooded with desire he didn't think someone like his Belle could feel.  "What about the ball?  We're the guests of honor."

"Hang the ball.  It was Philip's idea.  He can stay.  I want to be with you…alone."

Again, that strange inward turning of her eyes, before she nodded slowly.  Shawn needed no more permission.  Gentle no longer, he yanked on her hand and pulled her out of the ballroom and towards the stairs.

~~*~~

The day had passed rather dazedly for Chloe, for which she was grateful.  She didn't think she could have made it through otherwise.  The priest's words had barely penetrated her skull.  It was only through echoing what she had seen the others do that she had avoided making a spectacle of herself.  The golden ring around her finger, in addition to the diamond, was her only link with the reality that she was a married woman.

Even Philip's hand on her waist as he guided her through the crowd, introducing her to all the gentry, could make no impression on her.  Something inside of her had broken today; some vital part had died, and she had not the will to even try to revive it.  She was married.  Brady had not come.

Chloe gazed without seeing at the dancing couples on the floor.  She had danced a few times with Philip, when he asked her, but she was pleased not to have to make the effort.  He was talking to one of the neighboring planters, and she was free to distance herself from reality as she chose.

She chose a moonlit night, a ship deck, and a figure dressed in black.

A tall figure stepped into the light, but she barely noticed.  Philip did, however.  He turned from his conversation partner, and his lip curled at the new figure.  "Alamain, I thought you weren't coming.  Your servant said you were visiting Barbados and would not be home in time for the wedding.  You can imagine how glad I am to find he was mistaken."  The sarcasm was not lost on Chloe.

"Actually, I did miss the wedding, an event which I am sure to always regret.  But, having just arrived home to this welcome news, I thought I might attend the ball and offer you both my sincerest congratulations."

Chloe's heart stopped pounding for a moment.  She felt all the blood leave her face, as her gaze settled on the man she thought she would never see again.  He had turned towards her now, and though he was dressed in the finery of a colonial gentleman—even down to the periwig hiding his blonde locks—his blue eyes were identical to the ones she had memorized.  Right now, they were fixed on her with an icy expression she knew only too well she deserved.

"And this must be your lovely bride," Brady continued to drawl in that ridiculous slow voice.  

Tight-lipped, Philip made the introduction.  "Chloe, this is Victor Alamain; he owns the plantation bordering mine.  Alamain, this is my wife, Mrs. Chloe Kiriakis."

Chloe winced, hearing that name as if for the first time, when she heard it with Brady before her.

"Mrs. Kiriakis."  He bowed, took her hand and bent low over it; his lips were strangely cold against her flesh.  

Chloe shivered.  She could not force herself to make the obligatory curtsy in return.

"If it would not be presuming too much, Philip, might I steal your wife away for a dance?"

Chloe waited, torn between anticipation and horror, for Philip's response.  It was slow in coming, but finally, he waved his hand in permission.  "Go right ahead."

The words were barely spoken, before strong arms were clasped around Chloe's waist, and she was among the whirling mass.  She froze in Brady's arm, unsure what to do or even to breathe.  Could he possibly know his hand rested on the little bit of each of them growing inside her?  

"Forever doesn't last very long for you, does it, Mrs. Kiriakis?"

The words were hurled at her with surprising venom, and she found she could not meet his eyes as he spoke.  They rested on the elegant blue cravat before her, so different from his pirate garb.  She struggled for the words to answer him, but they froze on her tongue.  Nothing she could say would excuse what she had done…nothing except a confession of why, and for some reason, she could not tell him.  There was no way to know how he would react to the news, whether he would be overjoyed or spurn her even further.  Besides, what good would it do?  She was already married.  He had come too late.

Brady laughed, and it had the old caustic ring to it.  "That's the first time I've ever known you not to have a ready answer, Chloe.  What's the matter?  Philip demanding silence from you already?  Or have you forgotten that you gave yourself to me and swore you were mine?  Women have such fickle memories."

Anger and resentment burned deeper into Chloe at his heated words.  She knew he felt betrayed, but she had been betrayed as well.  She had been left, abandoned, when she needed him most, and not all the reasoning that he had returned as soon as he could was capable of removing that sense of rejection.  So she repaid him the only way she could; she kept silent.  She would not tell him about his child inside of her.  He didn't deserve to know.

"Of course, I don't know what I was thinking.  Why would you settle for a mere pirate when you could have a sugarcane king?  I wonder how your husband will react when he discovers that his blushing bride is not as pure as he believed.  How quickly do you think he'll send for the guards to have you publicly flogged for adultery?"

His hands tightened around her waist, and Chloe winced.  She would say nothing.  She would not respond.  She kept her eyes firmly averted from his.

As if sensing her thoughts, Brady's hand disengaged from hers and forced her chin up.  "Look at me, Chloe.  Why the hell didn't you wait for me?  I promised I would come.  Why didn't you wait?"

There was such mingled sorrow and anger in his eyes it melted her resolve in a moment.  "I…I…"

It was at that moment the shot rang out.

~~*~~

Jason watched Brady approach Chloe and Philip and grimaced.  That scene was not likely to be pretty.  For a moment, he debated following his friend over, but he knew he couldn't.  In his disguise as manservant, Jason was expected to retreat with the rest of the servants to the back parlor.  That was fine by him; he had another servant to find.  

It wasn't hard to spot her.  She stood away from the rest, anxiously fretting, worrying her kerchief in her hands and not looking at anyone.  Jason smiled.  No doubt she was anxious for Chloe.  He was apprehensive about their friends as well, but one sight of her was swiftly taking thoughts of others from his head.  It had been two long months since he had last held her in his arms.

He stood there for a moment, soaking in the view of her.  She must have felt his stare, for she looked up.  Her eyes widened, her hand flew to her mouth, and in one moment, she was at his side.  He was momentarily shocked, as she pulled him out of the room, but it didn't last long.  No sooner had she pulled him into a deserted alcove, than she began.

"Jason!  I can't believe you're here!  I'm so glad you are.  You have to listen to me.  No one will listen, but Jason…Jan killed Lord Black."

Jason was surprised at her knowledge, though not of the event.  He had already surmised as much himself.  "Yes, I know, Mimi.  But how did you find out?"

"I heard her talking to Philip this morning.  But that's not all.  They're lovers, and they're spies from Spain.  And Philip's going to kill Chloe, Jason!  He said it; he's going to marry her and kill her and take her place at Court."

"Philip is part of this too?" Jason questioned, with burgeoning awareness.  All the pieces were falling into place for him now.  Philip's rage at the buccaneers, his desire to have them banned from Port Royal.  Jan's inappropriate haughtiness for a maid servant, the reason she would kill Lord Black in the first place.

He grabbed Mimi's hand.  "Come on.  We're going to tell Brady."

"Brady's here too?  Oh, Jason!  Chloe married Philip today.  He's going to be—"

"He already knows, but that's not important right now.  What's important is to let him know, so we can figure out a plan.  Now, come with me, _Nanichi_."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," a cool voice stopped them, as they turned in the direction of the ballroom.  Mimi's hand clutched Jason's tighter as they confronted the unsmiling visage of Jan Spears.  In her hand was a loaded pistol.

Jason showed no reaction.  Gently, he disengaged his hand from Mimi's, bringing it closer to his side.

"Ah, ah, ah," Jan warned, raising her eyebrow.  "No stupid heroics now, Masters.  Keep your hands up and move along the wall.  You too, Mimi."

Mimi looked towards him for instruction, and Jason nodded.  He raised his hands in the air and put them up against the wall.  Beside him, Mimi did the same.  "So what happens now?" he questioned coolly.

"Well, what happens now is that I get to do something I've been dreaming about for a long time," was Jan's even more controlled response.  "I get to kill you both."

Jason heard the hammer being pulled on the weapon and moved on instinct.  He dove to the ground and swung out with his leg, bringing the woman toppling with him.  The gun left her hand.  Jason dove for it, but she yanked on his hair, pulling him back.  He struggled to free himself from her clawing hands.

"Jason, watch out!  She has a knife!"  

Mimi's warning brought Jason's hand up just in time to avert a slash on his throat.  He twisted Jan's hand and tried to force her into letting go of the weapon.  

"Mimi, get the pistol," he panted, while still engaged in the bodily struggle.  While Jan was smaller, she was obviously well-trained and accustomed to hand to hand combat.  

"No!"  With a ferocious kick to his middle, Jan freed herself.

As one, Jan, Mimi, and Jason dove for the weapon.  As one, they heard the roar of gunfire in their ears.


	22. Chapter TwentyTwo

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

His kisses were intoxicating.  He had never kissed her like this before, never touched her with such aching desire.  Belle understood now how Mimi could have been so carried away in passion.  She felt the same herself.  

She was drowning in it.

Slowly, she and Shawn were moving towards the bed.  Slowly, her stays were being loosened—without the help of another woman for the first time in her life.  Clumsy, eager hands were caressing each other's bodies in this dance, new to both of them, but old as time itself.  And then, after Belle had slipped far outside of herself, as she was moments away from baring body and soul to the man she loved, they heard it.

The distant roar of gunshot.

Passion was swept away in cold fear, and clothes were hastily thrown on to rush towards the noise and scene.  Belle clutched tightly to Shawn's hand as he directed her downstairs.  People were flooding out of the ballroom, towards the servants' quarters, and Shawn used his status as a naval commodore to push his way to the forefront of the tide.  Belle hung close to his side, feeling jostled, afraid, and disoriented from the sudden change in her surroundings and condition.

Shawn ran ahead the last turn, and Belle screamed at the sight before her.  Thick red blood pooled on the white marble floor of the Kiriakis mansion.  It made a startling contrast to the darkness of Jan Spears' hair.  For a moment, Belle froze.  She saw before her again all the blood surrounding her father's body—blood she had felt on her skin—and was overcome with terror of another dead body, another murder.

Jan drew a rasping breath, as Shawn knelt down next to her.

Belle snapped out of her fog, rushing to the maid's other side, while nervous chatter began among the guests gathered round.  She tore the precious white fabric of her wedding gown and put it to Jan's right shoulder, the source of the congealing mass of scarlet.  

"Who did this?" Shawn asked, while Belle continued her silent ministrations.

"Her bitch of a maid," Jan groaned, glowering at Belle.

Belle's hands stopped their frantic motions.  "Mimi?" she asked, stunned.  "Not Mimi.  No.  Where is she?"

There was a disturbance in the crowd.  Not Mimi, but the master of the house was forcing his way through.  Belle looked up and saw Philip pale, his eyes fastened on Jan.  For a moment, he looked ready to throw himself at Jan's feet, and then, just as quickly, his emotions were hidden away behind a mask of cool indifference.  He turned to the crowd, and said, with smooth grace, "I'm so sorry for the disturbance, ladies and gentlemen.  If you wouldn't mind returning to the parlors, we shall have this matter cleared up shortly."

He waved to several members of his staff, and they began herding guests away from the spectacle.  A doctor stepped forward to offer his assistance, and soon only he and the two newlywed couples remained by the injured girl.  Philip seemed desperate to be rid of Chloe as well, but she merely glared silently at him and would not be forced away.

"I want to know what happened here," Shawn demanded, with all that brusque authority his profession encouraged.

"It's quite simple, Commodore," Jan said.  Her face was pale from loss of blood, her forehead dewy with sweat, but she was still conscious, still fighting off the pain.  Belle recognized the symptoms of a survivor and knew long before the physician made his pronouncement that Jan would recover.  "I was making my way to the servants' quarters when I came across Miriam Lockhart making plans to run away with that pirate from the _Vengeance_, Jason Masters."

"He was here?" Belle and Philip both spit out, though with highly different emotions.

"Yes, and they were speaking of finding that other pirate Blackheart, so he must be as well."

Belle's eyes rushed to Chloe, but the lady showed no surprise.  Rather she was watching Jan with a mixture of distrust and loathing impossible to ignore.

"You hear that?" Philip shrieked, glaring at Shawn.  "You let them go, and now, they've come back and shot my—my servant."

Shawn ignored him, his eyes never leaving Jan's face.  "How were you shot, Miss Spears?"

"Well, naturally, I thought it only right that I warn Mimi about the consequences of running away with a pirate.  But when I stepped out to speak to her, that vile pirate pointed a gun at me.  I was too quick for him though and knocked it out of his hand.  That's when Mimi grabbed it.  She shot me, and they both took off running, that way."  She gestured towards the conservatory and the back exit.

"You're a liar."  Chloe calmly spoke the words that were screaming in Belle's heart.

Even through all the pain, Jan rose enough to level a filthy look on her mistress.  "If we're going to start naming all the liars in this room, _Mrs. Kiriakis," she spat the title, "I can think of several people who qualify, namely you."_

Chloe flushed but did not back down.  She took a step nearer the tableau on the floor and clenched her fists in the folds of her dress.  "I've never claimed to be a pinnacle of purity, Jan, but you _are _lying.  It's not even a good lie.  If Jason and Mimi were going to run away together, they would hardly have left a living witness."

"What do you mean?" Shawn asked.

"I mean, that if Jason Masters and Miriam Lockhart had wanted this woman dead, she wouldn't be sitting here, telling tales on them now.  She'd have been dead the moment the shot entered her body."  There was steel in Chloe's voice, so much so that Belle shuddered.  She sounded as though she knew what she was talking about, because she could picture herself committing such a crime—and Mimi as well.

"So are you suggesting I shot myself?" Jan asked, with both bitterness and derision.

"It's not a possibility I would rule out," Chloe returned evenly.

"Well, I'm afraid it's one I can."  The physician spoke for the first time.  He had been listening to them all in silence, as he cleaned and bandaged Jan's injury.  "The bullet went cleanly through this woman's shoulder.  The entry and exit wounds are placed so as to be impossible by a self-inflicted wound."

"You see?" Jan declared, lifting her head in haughty spitefulness.  "Your words are nothing but the lies of a resentful woman."

"However," the doctor continued, as though she had not spoken, "I also have reason to believe the shot was fired at close range, with exceptionally bad aim.  It would seem to me to be rather accidental, than a cool act of attempted murder."  He shrugged.  "That is only my opinion, of course."

"We don't have time to be sitting around discussing where the shot was fired from," Philip raged.  "If you're going to catch those damn pirates, you've got to do it _now_, before they get to sea!"

Shawn raised his eyes to Philip for the first time.  Belle was surprised to see such true hatred reflected in their normally loving brown depths.  "And where would you have me begin looking?  Wherever they came from, they're long gone by now."

"So close down the harbor!  The ports!  The roads!  Anything, just keep them blockaded here, until the navy can move in."

"Most of the fleet is gone with Commodore Norrington in pursuit of Captain Sparrow," Shawn replied, with clipped directness.  "The three vessels lying in Port Royal are in no way equipped for blockading a whole port."

Philip's face was practically purple with rage.  "So you're just going to let them slip through your fingers once again?" 

Shawn cocked his head to the side, his look of innocence pure challenge to the other man.  "Unless you have any clue as to where they might be hiding.  Tell me, Philip, was Captain Blackheart on your invitation list?"

Belle thought she detected something rather odd in Shawn's tone, as though he actually believed what he was saying but was disguising it in the form of a taunt.  Could he actually know where Blackheart was hiding himself?  Could he…was he _protecting _the pirate?  For the first time, she gave serious consideration to Blackheart's escape aboard the _Miranda.  Shawn had admitted having the only key to the brig.  He had been acting strangely all night, the way he talked with Chloe, the way he drew her aside.  _

Belle's eyes widened with sudden understanding as she glanced from friend to husband.  That was it!  That was the missing connection!  Shawn and Chloe had worked together to help the pirates to freedom.  She knew Chloe's motive; it had been love.  But what about Shawn?  What could prompt her wonderful, upstanding, law-abiding husband to give aid to a known criminal and murderer?

She tried to keep her face expressionless.  It seemed everyone around her—Philip, Jan, Chloe, even Shawn—was schooled in the art of masking their true thoughts and natures.  Belle wasn't, had never been made to disguise what she felt or thought at any given moment.  She couldn't hide what she was thinking, so she tried to hide her face instead.  She kept her eyes on the ground, on that horrible, blood-stained ground and didn't face any of them while they continued to fight, argue and scream at each other.

It wasn't until she felt Shawn's hand at her elbow that she realized the discussion was over and a decision had been reached.  "Come along, Mrs. Brady," he murmured softly in her ear, as he began to lead her back towards their bedroom.

Glancing over her shoulder, Belle watched as Philip lifted Jan in his arms and carried her down one of the long passageways, perhaps to her room, with the physician following.  Chloe watched them depart, pure malice in her eyes; then she flung on her heel and ran the opposite direction.  Belle turned back to Shawn, his purposely bland expression, and demanded answers.

"What is going on here, Shawn?  I don't understand.  Why are you protecting them?"

"Not yet, Belle," he returned, his teeth clenched tightly.

"Not yet?" Belle repeated, hating the almost hysterical twinge to her voice.  She, who strove to be so calm and collected at all times, sounded moments away from a breakdown.  "Not yet?  Then when, Shawn?  Everybody knows what's going on except for me.  My father was murdered!  My maid is now suspected of trying to murder someone else!  I'm the last person in the world, apparently, who doesn't know what's going on here.  Please, Shawn, tell me."

Shawn was silent for another moment as they continued down the hall.  Then, he nodded once.  "You're right.  You deserve to know.  Come on."  He gave Belle's hand a small yank and rushed with her up the stairs and back into the safety of their bedroom.  Only once they were locked inside it did Shawn let go of her and meet her questioning, almost accusatory gaze.

"Sit down," he ordered.

Belle's blue eyes flashed annoyance.  "I don't want to sit down, Shawn.  I want to know what you're all hiding from me."

"And you will," Shawn said, his tone slightly softened.  "But you're going to want to be sitting when I explain it all to you."

Part of Belle still felt rebellious and petulant enough to stay standing, but she knew she would receive the information she craved faster if she complied.  She sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed.  "All right.  I'm sitting.  Tell me what's going on, Shawn."

Shawn did not speak immediately.  He began pacing up and down the room, running his hands through his dark hair.  "I'm breaking a vow to a dear friend when I tell you this, Belle, and nothing would convince me to, except that I think it was wrong to promise in the first place.  You should know.  If anyone has a right to know, it's you."

"Get on with it then," Belle almost snapped.  Her curiosity was running high.

He stopped his pacing and knelt before her, his hands reaching out to cradle hers.  "Belle, a long time ago, when I first came to the Caribbean, my life was saved from an accident at sea.  The ship that saved me…the _man that saved me was Captain Blackheart."_

Belle's eyes widened in understanding.  "And that's why you helped him escape.  You were repaying a debt," she surmised.

Shawn shook his head.  "No, Belle, no, that doesn't begin to cover it.  Blackheart and I became friends.  We shared similar…opinions on the Spanish influence on the Main, and on the British colonial one as well.  Belle, darling, I've been passing him information on the naval movements in the West Indies for years."

Belle yanked her hands out of his reach.  Her whole frame shook.  "No," she whispered.  "You, Shawn?  A traitor?  No!  Tell me it's not true.  Tell me!"

"Belle…"

She could see it in his eyes, the honesty, the pleading for forgiveness.  Strangely, she did not see guilt.  He didn't regret what he had done.  

"How could you, Shawn?"

"I'm not trying to explain myself, Belle.  If you don't understand why, after all you've seen at sea and at this plantation, you never will.  I did what I thought was right—what I still think is right—and I won't regret it, though it could be my death.  But that's not what I need to explain to you.  You can either accept me as I am or not at all.  But there is another man you must come to terms with, no matter what."

Belle's brow creased.  Another man?  There were no other men in her life.  Her father was dead; Shawn was all she had left.  And she knew, despite his revelation to her, that she trusted him, had complete faith in his honor.  If he thought what he had done was for the best, it was.  She was trying to think of the words to tell him so, when his further speech made everything else fly out of her head.

"Your brother, Belle."

"My brother?" she repeated incredulously.  "Eric?  He's back in England; we've never been close, I know, but I would hardly say I need to come to terms with him."

"Not Eric," Shawn insisted.  "Your other brother: Brady."

Belle merely stared at him.  Brady?  Brady was dead.  He had died before she was ever born, in a shipwreck.  Brady, who her father had loved with a joy unmarred by the sorrow of lost children before.  Brady, who he spoke of with the laughing eyes and sun-kissed hair.  Her father said she had Brady's eyes…Brady's eyes, blue and crystal clear…

Eyes she had seen and known and trusted for no conscious reason…Eyes that she had looked upon when she awakened from her fever-induced sleep and thought her father stared back at her.

"Oh God," she muttered, her hand rising to the white line of her throat.  "Brady…he's the captain, isn't he?  That's why you let him get away.  You knew…you knew he was my brother."

Shawn nodded miserably.  "I wanted to tell you.  Honestly, Belle, I did, but he made me promise not to.  He thought it would only hurt you if you knew."

"Hurt me?"  Once again, Belle heard that trembling edge of madness in her voice.  She jumped off the bed, her hands clawing through her dress, her face, her hair.  "Hurt me?  When have I ever done anything but hurt?  When I watched my parents so coldly indifferent to each other over every mealtime?  When I saw my mother lavish all her attention on her other children?  When my father retreated into his study to brood over his long-lost love and his _perfect _Brady?  Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw it.  I saw what they saw: the second-best, the consolation prize.  And you think I don't know what it is to hurt?  I saw my father's dead body, Shawn!  I _stepped _in his blood!  Tell me, do you think that didn't hurt me?  

"But I'm not the defenseless little child everyone thinks I am.  I have survived neglect.  I have survived illness.  I have survived death.  I have been to the poorhouses and the slave huts, and I am not weak, and I am not afraid, and I am so _damn sick and tired of being told what I can handle and what I can't, and what's best for me, and where I should go, and what I should do.  I am not Chloe.  I don't want to rebel against everything I've ever been taught.  I believe in what I learned at church and at my mother's knee, but I believe it because I __choose to believe it, not because I'm too simple-minded to question._

"You tell me that my fiancé and my brother together decided to keep something from me that was bound to have a direct impact on my life, and you did it because it would _hurt me_?"

When she finally looked at Shawn again, he was staring at her as though he had never seen her before.  "Belle, I'm sorry.  We love you.  We thought we were doing what was right for you," he pleaded in soft tones.

At that moment, something inside of Belle snapped.  She ceased her wild motions and stared directly into the eyes of a man who only moments before had been her entire world.  "Leave, Shawn."

His mouth gaped open.  "Wh-what?"

"I said leave, Shawn," she repeated in the same cold tones.

"Belle, I don't understand."  His confused face pleaded with her.

Belle's smile was sad, nearly heartbroken, but too cold.  "I know you don't.  That's why you need to leave.  You don't understand me, and you never have.  None of you ever have.  Well, maybe Mimi, but she's not gone now.  And you're not staying.  Leave, Shawn."

"Would you stop saying that?" Shawn snapped.  Then, regaining some form of calm, he continued, "Belle, we were married this morning.  You swore before God to love me for the rest of your life.  Are you saying that you lied?"

"No, Shawn, I didn't lie."  There was no change in her nearly frigid state.  "I love you, but I cannot be with someone who thinks that it's their job to decide what is best for me without even consulting my wishes.  I won't be controlled that way, not by husband or brother.  I don't need a list of reasons or justifications.  What I need is for one person—just _one_—to be completely honest with me.  I can't remember the last time that happened."

Belle turned from Shawn and slumped into a chair by the window.  She felt more than cold now; she felt tired to her very bones.  This was not supposed to be how her wedding day ended, but given the state of her life, she could hardly find that surprising.  She heard Shawn rise but didn't turn towards him, not even when she heard him creak open the door and silently exit without another word.

~~*~~

Brady dug his heels into the mare, spurring the horse to go even faster.  He had to find Jason and Mimi, before anyone else did.  

No one had noticed him as he listened to the conversation surrounding Jan Spears.  It was all he could do to keep himself from shooting her himself for all she had done.  His father's murderer had sat there bleeding while his sister tended her wounds.  Life was incredibly ironic.  The pirate had slipped away as soon as it became clear Shawn would not be sending out the navy in search of them.  He didn't think he'd ever valued his friend as much as tonight.

Brady galloped down the dirt path to the Alamain great house, praying all the while that Jason and his girl would still be there.  He jumped from the horse and tore into the house, screaming for his first mate.

"Calm down, Brady," said Jason smoothly, stepping from the shadows.  "We're right here."

Brady whirled around to face him.  Jason looked as impassive as ever and definitely unhurt.  He was grasping tightly to Mimi Lockhart's hand though, and she looked paler than he had ever seen her.  "What happened?" he demanded.

Briefly, Jason filled him in on all the news he had been able to extract from Mimi since meeting her earlier this evening.  How Mimi had overheard Jan confess to the murder of Lord Black, how she had discovered that she and Philip were lovers and spies.  He finished the story with a relation of Jan's coming upon them, the struggle for the gun, during which Mimi fired the accidental shot which injured Jan.  

At this point, Mimi broke in.  "How is she?  Do you know?  Will she be all right?"

Her pity or guilt—whichever it was—was lost upon Brady.  "She's fine at the moment, but she won't be when I get my hands on her.  First, however, I have a score to settle with Philip Kiriakis."  He whirled back towards the exit, murder in his eyes, intent on dispatching the two people responsible for his father's death.

Jason's hand closed round his arm like a band of steel.  "No, Brady.  Not like this.  You have to think this through logically.  What good will it do to kill your father's murderers if you get yourself hanged in the process?  You may think you want vengeance, but really, you want justice more."

Brady used all his strength to free himself from his friend's grasp.  "If you think I'm going to let them live, then—"

"I never said anything of the sort," Jason interrupted smoothly.  "But going out in a blaze of glory doesn't fit the plans I have for my life."  Jason's arm wrapped securely round Mimi's waist. 

"No one's asking you to do anything," Brady argued, through clenched teeth.  "Go.  Take Mimi on the _Vengeance _and sail away, but this is something I have to do, Jason.  I'll never be able to live with myself if I don't."

"You won't live at all, if you do.  What you need, what we all need, is a plan."

Brady spread his hands wide.  "I don't see a lot of options left for us, Jason.  Shawn can delay the navy for only so long, before they come after us.  You and Mimi need to be long gone by then."

Jason raised an eyebrow, arrogant smirk firmly in play.  "You underestimate me, my friend.  I already have a solution to all our troubles.  All you have to do is shut up and listen."

Brady hesitated for a moment.  He was still burning with the desire for revenge.  He wanted to rush out of the house right now and strike Philip and Jan down with one blow of his sword.  On the other hand, Jason's plans had never gone wrong yet.  He sighed in temporary defeat.  "All right.  I'm listening."

~~*~~

Chloe closed the door to her bedroom and leaned tiredly against it.  The world was going insane around her.  She felt like she had lost her footing.  Hundreds of thoughts tumbled around inside her brain, making it impossible to focus on anything.  She had seen Brady.  Mimi had shot Jan…possibly.  Mimi was missing, definitely.  She had _married _Philip.

Why the hell had she married Philip?

She raised her hands to her hair, digging deep inside the curls, as though she could reach inside her brain and unravel the mess it had become.  She had to settle for the almost satisfying noise of her hairpins landing on the floor, as her thick locks came loose from their imprisonment.

"Oh God, oh God, what have I done?" she murmured over and over again, as she stumbled towards her bed.

Her bed that any moment could be occupied by Philip Kiriakis.  Her husband.  The man who had full legal right to her body, even if he did not have her heart.

"No!" she cried and turned away from such a fate, walking towards the balcony window instead.  She peered over.  It was only the second story; there was grass beneath.  Perhaps she could make a jump for it, and go…where?  She didn't know where Brady was…or Mimi…or Jason.  She didn't even know if they would accept her, after what she had done.

Besides, the fall wouldn't be good for the baby.

Yes, the baby.  She had to think of her baby.  It was all that mattered now.  

Almost numb, Chloe turned away from her brief thoughts of escape.  She glanced around the room and caught her reflection in the vanity mirror.  A pale, unsmiling woman in a white dress, with wild, streaming hair stared back at her.  A mockery of a bride.

And quite without meaning to, without any conscious thought or decision, Chloe was tearing at that damned white dress.  She tore the sleeves off at the seams, ripped at buttons and lace, took sadistic glee in seeing all that beauty come undone.  She let out a cry, almost feral in its abandon.  She was losing her mind.  She knew it.  But it seemed the only thing that would grant her peace in this wretched hell that had become her life.  She welcomed the insanity.  She _wanted it._

"Am I interrupting something?"

Chloe froze, breathing hard, and turned in the direction of the voice.  Brady stood framed in the balcony, watching her with an inscrutable expression on his face.  Gone was the elegant dress of the plantation gentleman from the ball.  He was dressed all in black—for stealth.  She had not even heard him enter.  

"Brady," she whispered, the only word that made sense as she retreated from the dreadful precipice of madness.

His eyes flickered with some emotion quickly concealed behind the mask of indifference.  "It seems a shame for a bride to be tearing her own clothes off on her wedding night, wouldn't you say, Mrs. Kiriakis?" he drawled.  But there was more than a hint of malice behind the mocking words.

Chloe's eyes widened as a sudden thought struck her.  "Brady, if Philip comes—"

"If Philip comes, I will kill him," Brady interrupted; his voice was cool and full of deadly promise.  "But Philip won't come.  He won't leave Jan's side all night.  You can rest assured of that."

"Jan?" Chloe echoed stupidly.  "Jan and Philip?"  Comprehension struck, but it brought no emotion with it but minor surprise.  "No wonder she hates me so."

"Oh no, Chloe, she more than hates you.  She'll kill you, if you stay here.  Which is why you're coming with us."

Hope fluttered through Chloe's heart, overcoming any minor dread she might have had of Jan.  Brady was taking her away with him.  Perhaps it wasn't all as hopeless as it seemed.  "All right.  How quickly should we leave?"

Again, an unnamable emotion flashed across Brady's face before being carefully concealed.  His eyes flickered over her bedraggled state.  "Well, you should probably change that dress before we go.  And, if you'd be so kind as to get me paper and quill, I have a letter to write."

~~*~~

It was eleven o'clock the next morning before Belle grew tired of waiting for Chloe to make her appearance downstairs.  Shawn had left early that morning to begin the search for Jason Masters, Captain Blackheart, and Mimi Lockhart without a word for her, and Philip continued to keep watch over Jan's sickbed.

Out of humor with everyone and everything around her, the new Mrs. Brady climbed the stairs and knocked demandingly on her friend's door.  There was no answer.

"Chloe?" she called.  Still nothing.

With a feeling of dread, Belle pushed open the door.  The room was pristine, except for the hairpins littered across the floor, and the ripped wedding dress in a pool in the middle of the floor.  The bed had not been slept in.

And on the bed lay a ransom note written and signed by the infamous Captain Blackheart.

~~*~~

It was dark, and Mimi was tired when they had arrived in Port Royal the night before.  That was the only excuse she could think of for not having noticed before that the blacksmith who had given them shelter for the night was the most gorgeous man who ever breathed.

She watched him now as he talked in hushed voices with Brady and Jason.  His dark hair was held back in a leather thong, and his eyes were deep, rich, unbelievably fine chocolate.  Even the way he moved was beautiful, full of grace and subdued power.  And his voice…she found herself listing to their conversation just to hear that smooth, cultured sound.

In the hour she had spent discreetly ogling him, Mimi had come to one conclusion; William Turner's wife was a _very _lucky woman.

Not that Mimi would trade places with her.  She loved Jason, possibly now more than ever, and it seemed they might actually be able to have their life together…if Jason's plan went off the way he wanted it too.  Mimi had every faith in him.

"But are you sure they'll go to sea?" Will was saying, drawing Mimi's attention back to the group of men.  "It seems to me that leaving a message demanding satisfaction and giving coordinates is a risky plan.  What if they set a trap for you?"

"That's why we're hiding out here for a few days," Jason explained.  "We can see how many ships leave port, and with your help, discover who's aboard them."

"Luckily, Jack's managed to get most of the fleet after him, or you'd never pull this off," Will observed.

Brady laughed.  "Luck had nothing to do with it.  We struck a bargain with your friend Sparrow."

Will's expressive eyes widened in shock.  "And he stuck to it?"

"He didn't really have much to lose.  It's a clean capture for him, lots of treasure, not much risk.  You know he can outrun, outfight, and outfox the blighter Norrington any day of the week."

"Miss Lockhart?" a soft, feminine voice pulled Mimi's gaze reluctantly away from the blacksmith.  She blushed guiltily under the straightforward stare of Elizabeth Turner.  "I don't mean to intrude, but your friend has lingered upstairs for quite a long time.  Is she all right?"

All random thoughts of gorgeous men flew out of Mimi's head as she gazed at the rafter above her head, with honest concern for Chloe.  "No," she sighed.  "She's not.  I should speak with her."

"May I ask—if it wouldn't be impertinent—what is it that troubles her?"

The young, lovely Mrs. Turner had an air of sweetness over steel that Mimi liked and identified with.  She was a strong woman; Mimi had never had much patience for weak ones.  "Well, in twenty-four hours, she's gotten married, found out her new husband wanted to kill her, and been carried off by a pirate," Mimi evaded.  She didn't feel it was her right to tell what she truly thought was hanging over her friend's head.  

"I see.  But haven't you all known Blackheart and Jason for a while now?"

Mimi laughed.  "You could say that.  This isn't the first time we've been carried off by them…though this time, I confess, it was rather willingly."

Elizabeth smiled, and there was such a wonderful fire in her brown eyes that Mimi instantly saw how a man like Will Turner could have been captivated by her.  "Yes, the appeal of pirates is not to be denied," she told Mimi in a confidential tone.  "But I wonder if your friend shares our opinion."

"Oh Chloe," Mimi murmured before she could stop herself.  There was something so open in Elizabeth's manner; it made her feel like she could trust and confide in her.  "She adores pirates…or, I should say, one pirate in particular."  Her eyes drifted pointedly to Blackheart at the table with the other two men.

"But she married Philip Kiriakis.  I see."  And something in the other woman's tone made Mimi suspect that she saw very well indeed.

~~*~~

Chloe didn't feel like she would ever be able to face the world again.  Since rejoining Jason and Mimi on the road to Port Royal, Brady had not spoken a single word to her.  Not even looked at her.  It was as though she was invisible to him.  She had barely spoken to the young couple who lived in the house behind the blacksmith's shop and opened their doors to Jason and Brady last night with no questions asked.

For some reason, Chloe felt almost unworthy to talk to them, in all their simple happiness and quiet comfort.  These were common people, who led common lives untouched by the kind of scandal that seemed destined to follow hers.  Another part of her resented that happiness and love she saw so clearly between them.  What right did some people have to be happy when others were so miserable?

A knock on the door roused her from her bitter reverie.  Thinking it was Mimi, Chloe called out, "Come in," without bothering to rise.

The thin, stately Mrs. Turner swept into the room, a baby cradled in her arms.  "I hope you don't mind if I nurse him in here," she said, inclining her head to the rocking chair in the corner as an excuse.

"By all means."  Chloe blushed and quickly rose to leave. 

"No, no, stay," she insisted, gesturing for Chloe to sit, while she took her own seat.

Awkward and embarrassed, Chloe obeyed and tried to avert her eyes while the other woman adjusted the buttons on her shirtwaist and settled her child.  Chloe had never been so closely exposed to the act of motherhood before.  Such things were not even talked about in the kind of circles she moved in, especially not to young girls.  Mothers in the aristocracy, and even most in the middle-class, didn't nurse their own children.  It was not considered fitting.

"My father is the governor, you know," Elizabeth said suddenly, shattering in an instant all of Chloe's preconceived notions about her.

She whirled around, open-mouthed.  Elizabeth sat calmly rocking with her child to her breast, a small blanket thrown across her shoulder to modestly hide herself.  The endearingly gentle sounds of the baby suckling reached Chloe's ears.

Elizabeth laughed.  "I knew what you were thinking, and I thought we'd better get all those kind of prejudices out of the way at once.  How far along are you?"

Chloe, who had just barely managed to find some degree of composure, gaped at her again.  "How…how do you know?"

"You mean, do you show?  No, you don't.  Not yet.  But when a woman marries a man she doesn't love, there's usually a very good reason at the bottom of it.  And as the man you love doesn't seem to be in any kind of danger you could help by marrying someone else, I chose the next logical conclusion."

Chloe struggled for words.  She didn't think she had ever met anyone so absolutely outspoken as this woman.  Even she had never dared to be as…brazen as Elizabeth Turner.  Yet she couldn't help feeling drawn to her.  There was something disarming about her forthrightness.  "Mimi's been talking to you," she returned with equal frankness.

"Well, I've been talking to Mimi.  It was better than having her stare at my husband."  Elizabeth smiled impishly, showing no jealousy and only pride in her husband's gorgeous looks.  "And yes, you did come up in the discussion.  And I realized I might have some things to say to you which you might need to hear."

"Really?  What about?"

"About loving a pirate," Elizabeth answered, with nonchalant grace.

Chloe started.  This woman seemed intent on keeping her off-balance.  "But your husband is a blacksmith!"

Elizabeth smiled again, her eyes crinkling.  "Is he indeed?  And I suppose that blonde man down there is Victor Alamain, plantation owner, is he?"

"So it's a cover for him then?" Chloe surmised.

"Yes and no," Elizabeth said slowly, thoughtfully.  "My husband is many things, none of which will ever be understood by anyone except me…and perhaps one other."  Her lips twitched on the verge of another smile.  "But I'm sure you can understand that.  I have never understood Captain Blackheart, personally, but I imagine you do."

"I thought I did," Chloe muttered.

"You married another man.  Did you expect him to greet you with open arms?"

"I don't know what I expected.  Not this though."

"It's because you were afraid," Elizabeth pronounced.  "You were afraid, and you took what you thought was the easy way out, and it turns out it's not.  But don't despair.  Your life isn't over yet."  Elizabeth gently shifted her sleeping child, and this time, Chloe watched.  Her hand traveled to her belly and rested there lovingly for the first time.

~~*~~

Jason looked up as Will Turner stepped through the open door and threw his hat and cloak down.  "Well?" he asked eagerly.

"The _Miranda _has set sail," Will announced, "with a passenger list that includes Philip Kiriakis, Jan Spears, and the new Mrs. Brady.  The other naval vessels remain in port."

Brady smiled then, with cold determination.  "We set sail with the tide.  The _Vengeance will overtake her by tomorrow afternoon."_

"And then what?"

The three men glanced to the stairs, where Chloe had made her appearance, Elizabeth trailing behind her.  Heavy silence hung in the air for a moment while Chloe and Brady faced each other.  No one else felt it their place to answer that question.

Finally, Brady spoke, the words dripping like poison from his mouth.  "Then you become a widow, Mrs. Kiriakis."

"You intend to sink the ship with your sister on it?" Mimi cried, astonished.

"Of course not," Brady snapped.

"Then, how—"

"Mimi," Jason said sharply.  When she looked over at him, he shook his head.  "Trust us, all right?"

"So shall we go now?" Chloe asked, apparently undisturbed by Brady's threat.

"Not quite yet," Jason answered, drawing surprised glances from all.  "There's something Mimi and I have to do first, and if you all would be so kind as to accompany us to church I believe our wedding can be accomplished long before the tide."

His measured announcement had the desired effect.  For a moment, Mimi stood stock still, only her shocked green eyes showing she had heard his words; then she flung herself into his arms, squealing and kissing him soundly.  Will and Elizabeth shared a smile, while Brady and Chloe looked anywhere but at each other.

As the two naval commodores stationed in Jamaica were both at sea, none of them were all that concerned with being seen in public.  In a proper ceremony, the banns were supposed to be published for three weeks before the wedding.  In Port Royal, a bit of gold fudged the formality, and Jason Masters and Miriam Lockhart were married in the sight of God that day before four witnesses.


	23. Chapter TwentyThree

Moonlight on the Caribbean

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

"We should be at the rendezvous site by tomorrow afternoon, Commodore," Rex said, his voice carefully expressionless.

Shawn nodded, pouring over the maps spread across his cabin desk.  Rex cleared his throat, and Shawn finally glanced up, his brown eyes dark and sad.  "Yes?"

"If I might be so bold, Commodore, as to say once more that I think it's fool-hardy to follow this plan.  You're giving into the demands of a pirate!"

"Would you rather leave Mrs. Kiriakis to die, Lieutenant?" Shawn questioned coolly.

"I think you know as well as I that Lady Wesley is in no danger from Blackheart," Rex said quietly, trying to keep the accusation from his voice.  "You're putting a great deal at risk for this woman.  Perhaps you should have left Mrs. Brady at home."

Shawn's face distorted momentarily with rage, before becoming deathly calm.  "I trust in the future, Lieutenant, you will leave matters concerning my wife to my discretion.  Am I quite clear?"

Rex knew he had pushed as far as he dared.  "Aye, aye, sir," he saluted.

"Dismissed," Shawn ordered, with a wave of his hand.  He bent over his maps and didn't look up again until his aide had departed.  He sank back wearily into his chair, his hand running over his tired eyes.  He hadn't slept a wink last night.  He'd been up pacing, thinking over everything that had happened.  Everything Belle had said…

She had spoken barely a handful of words to him today.  She had given him the note upon his return, asked when they would leave, and that had been all.  She was changed towards him, completely and utterly frigid.

Shawn ached for her.

With a frustrated cry, he swiped the useless maps off his desk and jumped to his feet, stomping out of his cabin.  He had to see her, talk to her, make her see how he truly felt.  The sky was nearly black; dark clouds hid the stars from view.  There would be a storm tonight.

Shawn paused outside her cabin door, his hand inches away from knocking.  By God, was he actually scared of a woman?  His own wife?  He heard footsteps approaching and quickly rapped his knuckles against the wood.

It was a long moment before the door was opened.  Belle's face, pale but serene, was framed in the light from her room.  "What do you want, Shawn?" she asked dully.

"I want to explain something to you.  I listened to what you had to say last night.  Will you please do me the same courtesy now?"

After a pause that felt like an eternity to Shawn, Belle nodded and cracked the door open for him to pass through.  She didn't offer him a seat but promptly sat back down in her chair, to her ever-present needle-work.  She didn't look at him.

"It wasn't my decision to keep the fact that Blackheart was your brother from you," Shawn began, standing before her.  His eyes bore a hole into her head, as he silently willed her to raise her eyes and see he told the truth.  "It was Brady's, and not because he didn't think you were strong enough to handle it.  On the contrary, he thinks you're one of the strongest people he's ever known—as do I, as does anyone who truly knows you.  The reason he didn't want you to know was he thought you had suffered enough loss in your life, without the addition of a brother who could be killed at any moment.  I argued with him, but there was no point.  Stubbornness must be a Black family trait."  

His mouth curved in a rueful attempt at a smile.  "I shouldn't have made the promise, I know.  I should have known my first loyalty was to you, not your brother, but I didn't think it was my place.  I'm sorry I hurt you, Belle.  It's the last thing on earth I would ever want to do.  I love you.  For your strength, for your compassion, for your goodness, I love you."

Her head was still bent low, her blonde hair shining by the glow of the lamps.  Shawn frowned.  He wished he could see what she was thinking, feeling.  If only she would raise her eyes…

When long moments passed in painful silence, Shawn cleared his throated and shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.  "Well, I suppose that's all I can say.  I'll leave now."  His feet felt inordinately heavy as he lifted them one at a time to reach the door that would estrange him for another night from his new bride.  His fingers closed around the door handle.

"Wait, Shawn."

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief and turned to see her standing, her face raised.  Tears streamed down Belle's porcelain cheeks, but she was smiling as she whispered the most beautiful word Shawn had ever heard.

"Stay."

~~*~~

"Say it again."

Jason smirked.  "Mrs. Masters."

Mimi rolled her eyes and swatted him playfully.  "Not that.  The other part."

"You don't like being Mrs. Masters?" Jason teased, faking a pout.

"Oh, it's lovely.  My whole life I've been dying to be addressed as Mrs. Miriam Masters."  She wrinkled her nose.  "It really doesn't have much of a ring to it, does it?"

"I think it's delightful."  Jason kissed her lightly on the mouth.  "Wonderful."  A bit longer this time, walking her back towards the cot in his cabin.  "Perfect."  This time, she melted fully into him as he swept her back onto the sheets.

Slowly, Mimi was able to disengage her lips.  "Say it again," she panted.

"I love you," he volunteered easily, as his hands went to the long row of buttons keeping him from his goal.

"Not that way," Mimi reprimanded, bringing his face up to hers.  "Tell me you love me."

Jason raised an eyebrow.  "Do you doubt it, Mrs. Masters?"

"Never," she swore, tangling her fingers in his sandy hair.  "That's why I want to hear it.  I've never trusted anything so much in my life.  Tell me again.  Tell me a hundred times, and I'll only believe it a hundred times more."

His teasing manner fell away immediately as he cupped her face and emerald eyes radiated honesty to her.  "I love you.  I love you, Mimi.  My wife.  My beautiful _nanichi_."

She released a contented sigh as she brought his face back to hers and lay waiting and wanting upon the bed.  "I know."

~~*~~

It was odd to be back aboard the _Vengeance_.  For months, Chloe had prayed for nothing else.  Now that she was here, it was all wrong.  She was once again in the captain's cabin, but this time, she was all alone.  Belle was with her own husband.  Jason and Mimi were in the cabin next to Chloe's, sharing their first night as husband and wife.  Brady had not been seen by her since they stepped aboard ship.

Chloe closed her eyes, trying to lose herself again in the rocking of the ship as it cut through the water.  Always before, the rhythm of the sea had been capable of lulling her into sleep.  Tonight, as with the many nights since she had lain with Brady, she was cursed with troubled thoughts and visions which kept her restless and awake.  She fidgeted restlessly on the cot.  This was Brady's bed.  He should be here, sleeping beside her.  His hand should be resting over her belly as they whispered sweet words to their child.

Once again, the image of the family they had stayed with in Port Royal flashed inside her mind.  The handsome husband, the loving wife, the beautiful, dark-eyed child.  Elizabeth said her husband was a pirate, and yet they had made it work.

Of course, Elizabeth had not married the man who was responsible for the death of her lover's father.

Chloe groaned in frustration and tossed her covers aside.  She was hot and miserable; the air was sticky with the approaching storm.  Suddenly nothing seemed so wonderful as being on deck when the clouds broke and let the rain fall.

Rising and dressing hastily, she ran up the steps to the deck.  It was pitch black, but she didn't care.  Chloe knew this ship now, knew it as though it was her home—and in a way, perhaps it was.  It was the only place where she had ever truly been free to be herself.  She wanted that again, wanted to feel that wild freedom once more, if only for a moment.

Chloe stood in the middle of the deck and raised her face to the sky.  She closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the scent of the sea.  Slowly, she raised her hands beside her.  As if it had been some unspoken signal to the gods, the first storm cloud burst, and rain began falling in torrents over the rollicking Caribbean and the boats that sailed her tempestuous waters.

Chloe opened her mouth, drinking the life-giving moisture.  She laughed up at the sky, hysterical, yet strangely happy for the first time in months.  The liquid was soaking her through to the skin; her dress would be ruined.  It clung to her now, heavy with water.  Her hair streamed down her back in a velvet river, and Chloe danced in the storm, wildly abandoned and free.

It didn't occur to her that she wasn't alone, until she opened her eyes and found Brady watching her from the helm.  He steered the ship through the gale without seeming effort; his eyes were only on her.

And suddenly, she thought, it didn't matter that she had married Philip.  The laws of men had no place under this ferocious sky, here in this turbulent sea.  All that mattered was once on a night like this, she had sworn she was Brady's, and she was his still.  No other man had ever touched her; no other man ever would.  She was running across the deck now, skimming up the ladder that brought her to his side.  She was pressing a hot, longing mouth against his and kissing him as though she could never stop.

"I'm yours," she murmured, between fervent kisses, while the torrent continued to drench them both.  "I'm only yours, Brady."

"Chloe," he groaned back, and in his voice was surrender.  All the ache of the past months—of years—of a lifetime—was released as he kissed her and found in Chloe his absolution.

~~*~~

Chloe had watched as the small blur in the horizon became larger and larger until it stood before her now as the proud H.M.S. _Miranda_.  A cold knot of dread formed in her stomach, as she glanced from the impassive faces of Brady and Jason to the approaching longboat.  She felt as though she had lived through this all before.  Only this time, she stood at her proper place, by Brady's side.

He reached out and enclosed her hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze, before letting their fingers rest together.  Chloe looked over to see Jason and Mimi share a similar silent moment.  She smiled.  She suddenly felt as though everything would turn out exactly as Jason and Brady had told them it would this morning.

Chloe schooled her face into the same expressionless mask as Shawn and Rex came aboard.  It became a bit harder when Philip and Jan came over the edge; she had the desire to murder them both herself.  It became almost impossible when Belle ascended last, looking at Chloe and Mimi through betrayed eyes, before settling her gaze on Brady's unmasked face for the first time.

Belle wasn't the only one who looked surprised.

"Alamain?" Philip cried, taking a step forward—though he still stayed behind the wall of soldiers. "It was Victor Alamain the whole time?  But you knew…" he continued, practically foaming at the mouth, as he rounded on Shawn.  "You knew who he was!  You've been protecting him!  Arrest this man, Lieutenant!  He is a traitor."

Rex made no move towards his commander, merely raised an eyebrow in question.  

Shawn glared at Philip.  "I owe you no explanations, Kiriakis, and you have no power here."

"Then why the hell did you bring me here?" Philip screamed.

"Because of the note," an unexpected voice spoke up.  Everyone turned to see Belle taking her place by Shawn's side.  She removed a small piece of parchment from the sleeve of her dress.

"I already know about the note," Philip snarled.  "To pay ransom for my wife.  Well, I'm here, my wife is here, I have the money.  Let's get on with it."

"The ransom isn't money," Belle interjected smoothly.  "The ransom is your head."

Not an eye was absent from Belle's unruffled features.  Chloe hid her smile; she had never expected Belle would be able to pull it off…or even if she'd be willing to.  The note had been a gamble, but one that had paid off, as Philip and Jan were standing aboard the deck of the _Vengeance with nowhere else to go._

Philip looked around from unsmiling face to face, trying to find a weak link.  "Chloe, my love, what's going on?"

"I'm not your love," Chloe spit back, stepping further into Brady's shadow.  "You planned to kill me."

"What?  What are you talking about?"  Even from across the deck, Chloe could see the sweat running down Philip's brow.  His eyes looked almost wild as he darted glances around the deck, searching for an escape that was not there.

"I heard you, Philip."  Miriam Masters stepped forward, accusing emerald eyes traveling from Philip to Jan.  "I heard both of you.  I know everything.  How you're spies, how Jan killed Lord Black—"

"And Kevin Lambert," her husband interjected.

"And how Philip was going to kill Chloe," Mimi finished.  "Jan knows it too.  It's why she tried to kill us.  We all fought for the gun, and it went off.  That's why she's wounded."

"As long as we're all being so honest," the Spanish brunette spoke up, cinnamon eyes flashing, "you could at least have the decency to call me by my given name, _Juana Maria Lanzas de Enero_.  You might also add that that…that _pirate _killed my brother.  He sank his ship and left no survivors.  He's sent dozens of Spanish galleons to the bottom of the sea, and does he care about all the widows and orphans he leaves behind?  Even while we were aboard his very ship, he took another ship, and you all wished him luck.  You wished him success!  Even you, Belle, supposedly so pious and good.  But I was the only one who said prayers for the lives he took that night.  I killed his father.  I would do it over again in a heartbeat.  I would plunge a knife into his back this moment if I could.  I would take as much from Brady Black as he has taken from me!"

As if believing the threat in her words, Rex Evans stepped forward and grasped the raving woman's arms securely, holding her back from the scene.

Brady's face showed no remorse or regret as he heard her indictment of his actions.  His blue eyes were steel as he faced her.  "If you want to throw around guilt, _Senorita de Enero_, it must go back even further than that.  To your countrymen who spent a decade torturing my mother, the saintliest woman who ever lived.  If you want to know who made me what I am, you need look no further than your own precious homeland.  As it is, the only reason you are standing alive before me is that even I can't bring myself to kill a woman.  Your partner, on the other hand…"

And with a ring of steel against steel, Brady's cutlass was free and aimed at Philip's heart.  "You have two choices, Kiriakis.  You can fight me like a man, or you can die right now like the coward you are, hiding behind a woman's skirts."

Juana struggled against the bonds of Rex's arms to no avail, while Philip paled and took a step away from the treacherous blade.  "I…I have no weapon.  You can't possibly be serious.  Commodore, Lieutenant, how can you allow this to happen?"

"It seems to me this is a duel of honor, Kiriakis," Shawn said evenly.  "If you need a sword, take mine."  He too freed his saber from his belt and tossed it across the deck.

Philip caught it in midair, betraying that for all his political maneuverings and aversion to violence, he had been well-trained by experience.  With a quick swipe, he pushed Brady's blade away from his throat.  The two circled each other for several tense moments, each taking the measure of their opponent.  Chloe's breath caught.  Half of her longed to rush forward, to put a stop to this nonsense before Brady got hurt.

But the wiser part of her, the part that had been matured over months at sea, through death and hardship, knew that every event since she had left England—possibly before—had been building towards this confrontation, and nothing would stop it until one of them was dead.

Philip lunged first, testing, and Brady parried easily.  They circled again, closer this time, while the others backed away from the scene.  Juana still struggled; all the others were solemn and still, barely daring to breathe.

And then, the swords were flashing back and forth; the sun glinted off the blades, the strikes, too quick to be seen clearly, sent off sparks and clangs which distressed Chloe's eyes and ears.  She jumped each time, only to be reassured by Mimi's sympathetic grip on her hand.  She squeezed back so tightly she was sure her friend's hand would break.

Brady and Philip fought on, lunge and parry and blow.  Their footwork was sure and steady, their attacks well-calculated, their defenses impenetrable.  For a while, it seemed they were equally matched.  As the sun grew higher in the sky, sweat poured down their bodies, soaking their shirts, slipping onto their sword arms.  And still they fought on.

Chloe was sweating too.  She longed to sit down and rest.  She was leaning more heavily now on Mimi, though more from exhaustion than fear.  She had seen the look on Philip's face as he made his last lunge.  He was a man on his last edge; his eyes were panicked.  His legs were faltering.  His swings were weaker.  Brady fought on, a man possessed, pushing Philip to his limits and beyond.

A great cry ripped across the deck, startling Chloe back to attention.  Philip fell to one knee, his arm gushing blood.  

Brady sneered down at him.  "Get up."

"You win, all right?  You got first strike," Philip panted.  "It's done."

"It's not done.  It won't be done until you're dead.  Now, get up."

Slowly, Philip pushed himself back to his feet, groaning with the effort.  Once again, the blades crashed together.  Pirate and spy in a battle to the death.  Philip knew now no cry for mercy would save him.  It seemed to give him a second wind.  Despite the open wound on his arm, he parried with greater force.  He managed to slice down Brady's arm, and Chloe winced.  It was the same place he had been injured the night they took the prison ship.  She wanted once again to call an end to all this, to take Brady far away, bandage his hurts, and keep them all safe for the rest of their lives.

The cut didn't seem to faze Brady.  He didn't even show pain for a moment as the razor sharp steel sliced through skin.  He fought on, striking out, drawing equal shares of Philip's blood.  A cut to Philip's leg.  A gash on Brady's cheek.  A scratch to Brady's side.  A laceration across Philip's chest.  And then, in for the kill.  Still standing, ready to deal a blow, Philip's life was stripped from him as the cutlass struck straight and true through the heart and lungs.  He fell, grasping for breath he could not get.  His blue eyes widened in pain and settled one last time on his love's face, reaching out a limp, bloody hand as if to caress Juana's curls once more.

He lay still.

"NO!" Juana's scream was piercing in its heartfelt agony.  Shocked, all turned to look at her, and Rex's hold slackened enough for her to slip through.  She threw herself down beside Philip's body, wrapping her arms around the grisly corpse.  She pulled it to her and whispered words in Spanish, meant for his unheeding ears alone.

Chloe felt a movement of pity inside her as she observed the scene.  Strange that she could pity the people who would have taken her lives without a second thought.  But she thought she might not have been alone in that emotion.  Rex made no move to take hold of Jan again.  Jason and Mimi stood back, holding each other tightly, as though afraid something could happen to separate them like that.  Shawn and Belle stepped closer to Jan, silently grieving beside her.  

And Brady…Brady looked up at Chloe, and the rest of them melted away.  The mask was gone completely.  He stood before her, bare and broken, aching, vulnerable, and needy.  Chloe held her arms wide for him, and he stumbled willingly towards her.

What happened next was out of a dream.  A nightmare vision.  So focused on Brady, Chloe barely saw the flash of silver against the sunlight; Juana was standing, moving faster than the warning in Chloe's throat.  A dagger flashed in her hand, as she ran towards Brady, who had yet to notice her.  Another shape moved, even quicker, jumping betwixt the Spaniard and her target.

"NO!"  Belle's shriek seemed to still even the sea around them.

Brady turned around to catch Shawn's limp body as it fell, Juana's knife in his gut.  Jason and Rex rushed forward simultaneously, both grabbing the murderess by the arms and pulling her back.  Belle fell to one side of her husband, as Brady knelt at the other.  She screamed Shawn's name over and over again, and all he could manage was a weary smile, a strained, "I love you," before the death rattle sounded in his throat.

Chloe stood back, frozen in her shock.  This couldn't be happening.  This had no part in Jason and Brady's perfect plan.  Her eyes fastened on Belle's face, strangely tearless, though she screamed and shook with grief.  Brady couldn't even do that much.  He rocked back on his heels, his face a portrait in disbelief and guilt.

And then, Belle's hand went to the embedded dirk in Shawn's stomach.  She wrenched it out, her hand covered in blood and other substances Chloe didn't want to know the names of.  She stood, regal even with her face, arms, and dress covered in filth.  Her footsteps were loud across the silent deck.  No one stopped her as she crossed the short steps to where Juana stood, imprisoned between Rex and Jason.  Jason even yanked Jauna's hair back, as though to offer her up for sacrifice.

Belle raised the knife to the pale, white line of her enemy's throat.  She just stood there for a long time, shaking visibly, as the others waited in silent horror.  When she finally spoke, her voice was surprisingly steady.  "By the laws you've lived by, by the laws my brother has lived by, your life is mine.  Do you deny that?"

Juana didn't answer.  She watched Belle without expression.

"Spaniards killed Brady's mother.  He felt that entitled him to kill Spaniards—including your brother.  In revenge, you killed our father.  My brother killed your lover, and now you have killed my husband.  By all the codes either of you have followed, your life is forfeit to me."

Chloe shivered.  She had never heard Belle's voice so cold, detached.  Even her hysteria after her father's death had been more bearable than this cool, murderous intent.

And then, slowly, Belle's hand lowered.  The knife clattered to the deck, and she kicked it overboard, under the rails, before turning back to Juana.  "I'm not going to kill you, Jan.  I want to.  God, I don't think I've ever wanted anything in my life quite as much as to see you dead at my feet.  But the killing stops here.  Do you understand that?  All of you…"  She turned around, her eyes fierce, as they landed separately on each of the surviving members on deck.  "It ends _now!  There shall be no more loss and no more bloodshed.  Is life really so immaterial to you?  Do you have no thought for the pain you inflict?  On others?  On __yourselves?  It's over."_

Belle's shoulders sagged in defeat, and she walked back to Shawn's side.  She knelt down beside his body and raised his hands to hers, kissing his palms his fingers.  She leaned over his still-warm body and trailed her lips across eyes, cheeks, forehead, and at last, the unresponsive mouth.  She stayed like that for a long moment.  None of the others had the heart to go to her.

Finally, as her body began to shake again, Brady stepped forward, resting supportive hands on her shoulders, as he gently lifted her to her feet and turned her away from the sight.  Belle went willingly into her brother's arms.  She clung to him, sobbing.  And Chloe found herself turning away from the reunion that was not as any of them had planned.

~~*~~

Rex Evans knew he was an outsider here.  The others around him were bonded by a legacy of death, heartache, and love that he had no part of.  Belle's grief, as much as it moved him, showed him just how far out of reach she was for him and ever should be.  So quietly, discreetly, he arranged for the removal of the bodies.  He had Juana de Enero brought to the brig of the H.M.S. _Miranda _to be brought back to Port Royal for trial for murder and espionage.  She showed surprisingly little resistance.

And now, Rex waited and pondered what he should do.  By law, he should commandeer the _Vengeance _and have her brought back to port, where her captain and crew would all be tried and hanged for piracy.  Twenty-four hours ago, this would not have even been a question for him.

But Lieutenant Evans had learned an awful lot about life in this last day, and very little of it had to do with the laws of the British Royal Navy.  His superior officer, his friend and mentor, had been a traitor to crown and country…but not to his own conscience.  Now, he was dead, saving a man whose right to life was debatable, at best.  His beautiful wife, whom Rex had envied him, was a widow within two days of her wedding, and she was more untouchable now than ever.

Perhaps it was Belle who decided him.  He would never know.

Once everything else was accomplished, he approached her, now surrounded by the attentions of the other two women.  He took his hat off and shifted nervously before her, half-afraid to speak.  "Mrs. Brady?"

She looked up at him, her pure blue eyes reddened by grief.  "Belle," she corrected him, her voice strong despite her tear-stained cheeks.  "What do you need, Lieutenant?"

"We're about to turn homeward, m'lady," Rex said, unable to force her name past his unworthy lips.  "If you ladies would come with me, we'll get you settled on the _Miranda."_

Chloe glared at him, Mimi blinked at him in surprise, but Belle spoke for all of them, as she said, "We're not coming, Lieutenant."

Part of him had known all along that would be her answer, but the section of his brain still left untouched by the events of the day made him press on.  "You can't stay here, my lady!  This is a pirate ship.  I am obligated to escort it back to Jamaica and see Captain Blackheart" – somehow it seemed easier to call him by his alias than to refer to him as Belle's brother – "undergoes trial for piracy."

Belle's eyes were unblinking as she looked at him.  "You won't do that, Lieutenant.  And we will stay here."

Any further protest choked in Rex's throat.  "Where will you go?" he found himself asking instead.

"Anywhere that isn't where I've been," Belle answered with sad knowledge in her voice.  "That's all gone now."

"I'm so sorry, Belle," he whispered.

She forced a smile for him, though it didn't reach her eyes.  "I know.  Goodbye, Lieutenant."  She held out her hand, and he pressed it to his lips, sure he had never touched anything before so radiantly pure; its milky whiteness was stained with the blood of her love.

~~*~~

Jason stood at the prow, watching as the _Miranda _disappeared over the horizon.  He felt her presence as she came up beside him.  He didn't turn around, but he held out his hand, and she slipped hers into it, without question.

"What happens now?" Mimi asked.  She too stared out to sea; both found a strange measure of peace in the unfathomable waves.

"What do you want to happen?  I promised you I would be whoever you wanted me to be, take you wherever you want to go.  You have only to tell me, Mimi."

"Hush," she whispered.  She turned towards him and used her soft hands to turn his face towards hers.  Her green eyes were clear and shining with emotion.  "I want _you just as you are.  I want to be where you want to be.  You're home to me now, Jason."_

He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his hands possessively around her waist.  "As you are to me."

Sighing, Mimi leaned into his chest.  She turned her face towards the cabin where Belle was locked in her private grief.  "I want us to stay where she is."

Jason didn't need to ask who she meant.  He nodded, his chin knocking against the top of her head.  "That's what we'll do then."

His wife pulled back the slightest bit to search his face.  "You don't mind?"

"Why would I mind?  Belle's family to you.  That means she's family to me now too.  Brady's been like a brother to me for years; Chloe's your friend.  I feel…we're all tied together some way, you know?"

Mimi nodded.  She knew exactly what he meant.  "So we go wherever the sea takes us, is that it?"

Jason's mouth curved in what might have been his familiar smirk, if the grief they were all feeling wasn't so new.  "Why not?  It led me to you, after all."

She didn't respond in words.  Words took effort, and they were never about effort.  They were easy.  They flowed together in the rhythm of the sea, and as their lips blended, they both knew that was how it would always stay.

~~*~~

"A baby?  You're sure?"  Even in the darkness, she could see Brady's eyes light with wonder and disbelief.

Chloe nodded, from her place in the bed next to him.  Moonlight streamed in through the porthole, illuminating naked, entwined bodies.  Brady's eyes drifted down to her belly, his hand following, tracing the smooth skin in loving circles.  He didn't say anything for a long time, and when he finally looked at her again, she was surprised to see the formerly impenetrable man had tears sliding down his cheeks.

"I don't deserve this," he whispered.  "Shawn…Shawn should have had this."

Chloe was half-tempted to joke about how good it was of Brady to want to share her with another man, but she knew the grief was still too soon for laughter.  It was why she had chosen tonight to tell him.  After so much death and destruction, they all needed a reason to hope.  "Shawn loved you like a brother, Brady.  He would have been happy for us."

"He's not here to be happy for anything," Brady shot out bitterly.  "Because of me.  It's all because of me."

Chloe's defense was ready.  "Do you think that Belle would still be here if she thought that?  Do you think _I _would be here if I thought that?"  When Brady didn't respond, she grabbed his face with both her hands, demanding his attention.  "I love you, Brady.  Our baby will love you.  Our children will know their father is a good man.  Our children will grow up with a father who loves them; they'll never know the lack of it as you did.  They'll grow up happy and healthy and free, and they'll give us all another chance to make it right.  You must believe that, Brady.  Believe it for my sake, if you can't for your own."

"I don't deserve this," Brady said again, but his tone was different now.  Where there had been despair and sorrow, there was now gratitude and tenderness.  "I love you, Chloe."

Chloe closed her eyes, savoring the words.  He had never told her that before.  She was almost certain he had never told anyone that, at least not since his mother died.  There was something freeing in those words.  Something more liberating than the sea and the sky and the earth lain before their feet.  That night, they cried together and made love together.  They grieved and loved and laughed.

And became whole.

~~*~~

The moon shimmered, casting its deceptive glow over sea and ship together.  Edges blended together, indistinguishable in the strange light.  A door opened, and a figure emerged.  She had dressed quickly, heeding a desire she didn't understand, and now stepped forward with unsure, hesitating steps.  The ocean breeze blew on her face; the moonlight cast strange shadows across it.  The deck sloped under her feet, but she held steady; she was beginning to understand the movement of the ship.  It had settled somewhere deep in her blood.

She crossed to the rail and closed her eyes.  The moon shone full and radiant upon her, giving her an otherworldly glow of purity.  For the first time, Belle Black Brady threw back her head and listened to the call of the sea.

The End

It's finally done!  I can't believe how long I've been working on that story, the last four months being the worst, given my lack of inspiration.  But it's done…

However, this experience wouldn't be complete if I didn't thank a few of the people who made it possible to finish this epic in the first place.

To everyone who ever reviewed, thank you!  You have no idea what your comments meant to me!  They kept me going; they really did.  I'd especially like to thank some of my most faithful reviewers:  

Katiebroe – thanks for your support!  I'm glad you loved my Days work, and if you (or anyone else) really did want to know what I'll be doing with my writing now, you might want to head over to Checkmated, a Harry Potter's Ron/Hermione fanfiction archive, where I'm just beginning a Draco/Ginny/Harry & Ron/Hermione epic, in addition to my occasional R/H fluff piece.  My username there is "freelancer."  URL:  

Alesun – I think you've reviewed every single chapter (and some twice)!  I can't imagine how my story inspired such devotion, but trust me, it did not go unnoticed.  Thank you!

Abbyu, cj, and kalvana – I can credit each and every one of you for making my day on at least one occasion with your encouraging and detailed feedback.  Thank you so much!  I treasured your words!

Karma – who actually emailed me begging for a new chapter!  Consider me humbly gratified!

To SilentTypewriter, MzThing, Sasami, mooseyfate, GAPPrincess, Ash, Foxy, Summer, and a dozen others whose names I can't think of right now, but whose support still stays with me, thank you all!!!

To Jen, who I miss dearly, and who once said "scalawag" and gave me an idea for this entire story (once I'd stopped laughing, lol.)  I love you, Li'l Angel Girl!

To Wen, for too many reasons to name, love ya, girl!

To CB, who has talked me through so many cases of writer's block, I think she almost deserves co-author credit, you're the first and still the greatest, girl!  Love you!

And to Robyn, who has been the heart and soul of this story since she first discovered the Sexy Pirates, who loves me enough to become a HP addict right alongside me, who's my defender and inspiration, and who will even forgive me for sounding so horribly sappy right now, *you* are the wind beneath *my* wings, girl.  Love you!

It's been a sincere pleasure sharing an obsession with all of you.  I wish you a fond farewell and a return to happier Days!


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